


Angels with Dirty Faces

by GreyGoose



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crime Fighting, F/F, F/M, Organized Crime, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-03-24 18:59:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 64,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3780775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyGoose/pseuds/GreyGoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Irish Mob's reign over the city is over, creating a safer and better South Boston, but nothing good can ever last. Clarke is a struggling med student introduced to that world through Lexa, a boxer at her father's gym.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rose Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> Daredevil inspired me to try a vigilante story out. I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Clarke walks into the Red Room Gym, and the smell of sweat, blood, and a hint of urine hits her nose. Her dad frequents the gym, but this is the first time she's ever step foot in it. It's the first time she's ever been allowed here. South Boston might not be what it once was, but it is still not the kind of place Jake Griffin likes his daughter being. 

The Red Room Gym is a notorious boxing gym. It's one of the most notorious gyms in all of Boston, which says a lot about the establishment. It has a long history with the city, and none of it good. Her father is a trainer, his boxing days are over. He allows her to come here for the first time in her life because she's falling behind the rest of her class, and bruised and bloodied boxers are perfect for practice. 

Clarke finds him standing by the side of one of the rings, a towel thrown over his shoulder and a spit bucket in his hand. She watches him watch two of his fighters, and a smile pulls at her lips. 

“Hey, Dad,” she says as she makes her way to him. She sets her bag on the side of the ring and gives her father a hug. The spit bucket sloshes at her side, and she immediately regrets her decision. 

“Hey, sweetie.” He pushes the bucket inside the ring and whistles at the two men. “Wrap it up, fellas, and take a break. We'll do a cool down in a few.” One of the men eyes her in a way Clarke is all too familiar with. The streets of Boston are full of men that give her looks like that. It makes her uncomfortable, but more importantly, it makes her dad uncomfortable. “Knock it off, Murphy. I may be old, but I can still kick your ass.”

Clarke laughs as he pulls her away to his office. “I don't need you defending my honor. You taught me a few moves, remember?”

“Clarke, you're a terrible boxer. Not even I could teach you anything that would stick.” He opens the door and leads her inside.

On the wall behind his desk is an old championship belt and pictures line his desk. Each one captures a milestone in his career, but none of them are of his personal life. Clarke picks up one of the frames and studies the picture closer. Her father is young in this one, and he has his arm around one of the most infamous mob bosses in the city. The two men are each holding one end of the championship belt that now hangs in his office.

He takes the picture from her and sets it back on his desk. “It was a different time back then. This gym is cleaner. It's the only reason I allowed you to come here.”

“Why do you still have that if you're so ashamed of it?” she asks. 

“It reminds me of what I had to do to get here, and it reminds me of what I'll never go back to.” Clarke picks up another frame, but he pulls it away from her before she gets the chance to really look at it. “We aren't here to relive my past. You need more practice with broken bones, stitches, bloody noses, and whatever else. I have plenty of that here. You can poke and prod these animals all you want, but never get too friendly with them. They are criminals at worst and dirtbags at best.”

“Trust me, I know.” She thinks about Finn. She doesn't want to be thinking about him, but she does anyway. He is her jerk of an ex-boyfriend that is now dating her jerk of an ex-best friend. She hates that it still bothers her, but if she's being honest with herself, she feels more betrayed by Raven than anyone else. 

“I warned you about him,” her dad tells her. He tells her this every chance he gets. She knows he doesn't do it to be cruel, but she wishes he would drop it.

“So you're sure this is gonna be under the table? I don't want this getting back to anyone at BU.” She changes the subject. Hopefully her dad takes the hint and forgets the topic of Finn. Clarke certainly wants to. 

“If there's one thing this gym is known for, it's keeping things under the table. Look, I want to start you off with one of the more decent guys. Bellamy has a fight tomorrow. Nothing too big. It's more of a tune up for his big match next month. Think you can handle it?” 

“I watch doctors cut into people all day, I think I can handle a bloody nose.” He means well, but it bothers her that he doesn't seem to know what she's capable of. Being in the gym because she needs extra practice doesn't help with that, she's sure.

Her third year of medical school is almost up, and she is steadily falling behind all of the other students. She blames it on Finn, but she knows that isn't fair. She just doesn't have that spark anymore, and she doesn't know how to find it again. She thinks this place and its fighters might give her the boost she needs because she knows there can be some pretty gruesome injuries in boxing. That's what she hopes for.

“Well then lets go meet the guy.” He leads her back out of his office and into the gym again. More leers follow her across the room until they come to a stop in front of a young man working on his jabs at a punching bag. Her dad grabs ahold of the bag to steady it and introduces Clarke, “This is my daughter, Clarke. Clarke, this is Bellamy.”

“Hey, how's it going?” he asks with heavy breath. Sweat drips down his face with each jab, and his mop of hair clings to his forehead. Clarke decides he's cute enough to distract her from her thoughts of Finn. 

She sticks out her hand to shake his but then realizes how ridiculous that is. The man is wearing boxing gloves and pounding away at his punching bag. She quickly lowers it back down to her side in embarrassment. 

“I'll leave you two to it. Clarke, I want you out of here before dark. Got it?” Sometimes she hates the way he still treats her like a child. She understands it, but she still hates it. 

He strides across the gym to one of the rings and climbs inside. She watches him while Bellamy continues with his workout. He looks like he belongs in that ring, like he could still last a few rounds in a championship fight. She remembers the only fight she had ever been allowed to attend and smiles at the memory of watching her dad knock his opponent out in the middle of the third round.

“Hey, Princess.” Her smile falls from her face when Murphy steps in front of her, blocking her view of her father. The strap of her bag rests over his shoulder, and he smirks when he sees her notice it. “You shouldn't just leave things laying around in here. Who knows what could happen to it.” He pats the bag, and Clarke tries to grab it. He steps back from her and laughs. 

She doesn't even notice the sound of gloves meeting leather has stopped until Bellamy rips the bag from Murphy's shoulder. The gloves cause his movements to be awkward, but he's able to hand the bag back to her with little other difficulty. “Griffin's gonna kick your ass one of these days, Murphy. You're already in deep shit for all the fights you lose.”

Murphy says something back, but Clarke doesn't hear it. The bickering of the two men fades into the background as soon as her eyes land on a woman across the gym. She's working on the speed bag, and it looks almost effortless for her. Clarke can't see much from so far away, but what she can see intrigues her. Mostly it is the tattoo that draws her in. Tattoos never really do it for her. She almost always thinks they're trashy and horribly done, but the red of the roses covering this woman's arm is deep and contrasts beautifully against her skin. She can't tell how many roses there are, but it looks like a cluster of them. Clarke wants to know everything about them, especially what they mean to the woman.

“Who is she?” Words finally come back to her as she breaks herself out of her trance.

The two men follow her gaze across the room, and Murphy starts laughing again. “You mean Widow Biter? You and your daddy think I'm bad news? She's worse.”

“Get out of here, Murphy,” Bellamy says through gritted teeth. Clarke can tell there is no love lost between the two of them, but she really doesn't care. She just wants someone to give her a real answer to her question. 

Murphy puts his hands up in front of him and backs away. His smile is gone, but the gleam in his eye doesn't sit well with Clarke.

“Who is she?” she asks again. Bellamy seems more reasonable somehow, so she hopes he will be more forthcoming with information.

“Her name is Lexa.” He holds out his gloves to Clarke before he continues, “a little help?” She tears into the tape wrapped around his glove and helps him pull it off. He puts it under his arm and starts on the other. “Murphy's right. She's bad news. None of us are saints in here, but the only reason she's on your dad's roster is because he owed her uncle a favor. That chick has been arrested more times than any of us.” He pulls his other glove off and bundles them together. He takes a seat on a nearby bench and towels off the sweat from his face. 

Clarke joins him on the bench but doesn't take her eyes off of Lexa. “She's beautiful,” she says quietly before she realizes it has even left her mouth. “I mean her skill. It's beautiful.” She tries to cover, but she's not sure if Bellamy buys it or not. 

“You want to keep your dad off your back? Stay away from her.” He squeezes water from his bottle into his mouth and then stands. “Tomorrow night. Be here at eight.”

Clarke doesn't watch him go. Instead, she turns her attention back to the woman at the speed bag. Lexa. She wonders if it's short for anything. Then she wonders where Widow Biter comes from. Just by looking at her, Clarke doesn't understand how she could be as bad as Murphy and Bellamy say. She is lithe and graceful on her feet. Her tank top allows Clarke to watch her lean muscles ripple with her movements. How could someone so beautiful be so dangerous? 

She's slightly upset when she sees Lexa hit the bag one last time. It swings back and forth until it finally comes to a stop. That's when Lexa turns her head and catches Clarke watching her. 

Clarke panics and looks away. She tries to busy herself with looking around the gym. Her father is still in the ring, and he's holding up sparring pads. Murphy jumps rope in the corner. He catches her staring and gives her another smirk. She looks away and sees Bellamy exit the dressing room. His wet hair is slicked back out of his face, and she tries to tell herself again that he is a nice distraction, but as her eyes follow him out of the gym, she finds herself locking eyes with Lexa once more.

She's on the bench on the opposite side of the gym and is removing the tape from her hands. She never breaks eye contact with Clarke, and it makes her slightly uncomfortable. Not uncomfortable like with Murphy. This is a good kind of uncomfortable. Like the heart flutters and breathing quickens kind of uncomfortable. Then she tells herself that she's being silly. This is exactly how she met Finn. Not in her father's boxing gym, but at the gym at her apartment. Everything else is eerily similar. 

Lexa finally breaks eye contact and finishes removing the tape from her hands and stands to head to the women's dressing room. Clarke decides it's time to go. She has embarrassed herself enough for the day. A night out on the town is calling her name. She just hopes Octavia and Lincoln are up for a few drinks. She certainly needs them now.  
~~~~~~~~~~

The cab pulls up in front of Molly's Pub, and Lincoln pays the driver. They exit the car and walk inside the bar. It's one of South Boston's local dive bars, but Lincoln assures her it's one of the best in all of Boston and that the Irish nachos are worth the cab fare alone. She knows being here goes against everything her father says about being in the area after dark. It's one of the reasons she agrees when Lincoln and Octavia suggest it.

They grab one of the last tables left in the bar, and Lincoln goes to order their nachos and drinks. 

“I can't believe you've never been here,” Octavia says over the noise. It's not too loud, but the group of guys laughing behind them makes it difficult to hear. 

“You know how my dad is. There's a lot of places I've never been.”

“Yeah, but I just figured with Finn you would have explored a little bit, you know?”

Clarke glares at her. Octavia knows Finn is off limits, that she hates talking about him, but she does it anyway.

“Can we not talk about Finn? He's the last thing I want to be thinking about right now. It's bad enough my dad reminds me of what an asshole he is every chance he gets, I don't need it from you too.”

Lincoln's timing is perfect as he comes back with a tray of various liquor shots and a larger empty glass, and all talk about Finn is over.

“The nachos will be out in a few, so how about a game of quarters until then?”

He sets the tray on the table and they each grab a shot glass. Clarke's alcohol of choice is vodka. It always numbs her mind more quickly than whisky or tequila. Lincoln fishes out a quarter from his pocket and places the empty glass in the center of the table. He balances the quarter on his nose and leans over the table until it slides off and into the glass.

“Drink up, ladies,” he exclaims as he pulls the quarter from the glass and sets it in front of Octavia.

Clarke grimaces as the vodka slides down her throat. It's her go to when she wants to get drunk, but she hates how it tastes. She opts for a shot of tequila next. Octavia takes her turn, but the quarter falls and clings off the rim of the glass.

“I don't know why I ever agree to play this game. I suck at it.” Lincoln laughs and leans over to give his girlfriend a kiss. Clarke watches them and feels like a third wheel. They should be out having a good time together, but instead they're here with her. Octavia breaks away from the kiss and hands the quarter over to Clarke. 

She gets it into the glass with no problem, and they play a few more rounds until their food arrives. Clarke is feeling the effects of the alcohol as she bites into one of the nachos. She agrees with Lincoln. They are worth the cab fare. The potatoes are the right mix of crispy and soft, and the blend of melted cheese is delicious. She knows she'll be back. Molly's Pub has a place on her 'favorite bars' list now thanks to these nachos. 

“Oh, wow, another drug bust. Look at those guys!” Lincoln points to one of the television screens mounted on the wall. Clarke turns in her chair and watches the breaking news segment. Two men are out cold in the middle of the street. The volume is muted, but she's able to read the captions.

“Police were alerted to the area after reports of shots being fired. They arrived on the scene to find two men unconscious in the street. The abandoned house has been identified as a methamphetamine lab. This is the the third drug bust not orchestrated by Boston PD in the last month.”

“Who do you think is behind it?” Clarke asks as she turns back to the table.

“Who knows, but I'm glad someone's doing it. The cops and lawyers in this town are useless. Any strides forward over the last few years have really started to come undone.” Octavia downs another shot. Clarke knows that stories about crime bother the woman. As a paralegal, she has to deal with criminals every day. The firm she works for has made a name for itself by working high profile cases for wealthy clients. Wealthy and guilty clients.

“Whoever it is, the cops will catch him and throw him in jail. You can bet on that.” Lincoln puts his arm around Octavia and pulls her closer. 

“And what makes you so sure it's a man?” Octavia asks before placing a quick peck on his lips. 

Clarke shoves another nacho into her mouth and stands. She knows the signs of when it's time to leave the other two alone.

“Well, I'm gonna call it a night. I have class and rounds tomorrow, and I'm sure you two are ready to get home too.”

Octavia distances herself from Lincoln with a look of guilt on her face. “You don't have to go. Play a few more rounds with us.”

Clarke laughs and shakes her head. “You're terrible at it, and I'm drunk enough. I'll see you guys tomorrow.”

They both nod and Octavia stands to give her a hug. She holds on tight, thankful that at least this friendship is still intact.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Her taxi comes to a stop in front of her apartment complex and she enters the code to open the gates. It takes her a few tries, the alcohol causing her to fumble with the keypad. She finally succeeds in entering the correct code, and the gate opens. The cabbie drives through and drops her off in front of her building.

She climbs the steps on unsteady legs and rummages through her purse for her keys. Unlocking her door proves to be harder in her inebriated state, but just like the keypad for the front gate, she finally succeeds in getting the door open. 

She drops her purse on the dining room table and stumbles to her couch. Any thought of studying is gone, not that it would have done her any good in her current state. Instead, she opens her laptop and goes to the WCVB news channel's website. Using the search bar, she locates several stories on other drug busts. Most are about the police department and a few minor busts involving marijuana, but there are a couple that catch her eye. 

None of the articles provide many details, but they all outline the same pattern. An unknown person is tracking down local drug dealers and manufacturers, ruining their supply, and leaving them bloody and unconscious for law enforcement to find. 

Clarke wonders to herself if there is a vigilante in the city. She laughs and shuts the computer. “Don't be stupid, Clarke,” she says to herself, “that kind of stuff only happens in New York.”

Unsure if she'll be able to make it to her bedroom, she curls up on the couch and falls asleep.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Lexa stands in the hallway in front of her apartment. She pulls back the hood of her black sweatshirt and wipes the eye black from her face with her sleeve. Not wanting to wake Gustus or Tris, she unlocks and opens the door as quietly as she can. 

The floor creaks under her footsteps as she makes her way to the bathroom. On her way, she checks on her little sister. She allows herself to take a few seconds to watch the girl sleep. 

In the bathroom, she removes her sweatshirt and throws it to the floor. The red of her rose tattoos on her right arm stands out to her immediately, but she sees that she has been grazed by a bullet on her left. She picks up her sweatshirt and examines the sleeve. There is a hole ripped through the side. She sighs and throws it back to the ground. She pulls out a bottle of peroxide from behind the medicine cabinet and pours it over her wound. Holding back a groan, she grimaces in pain. She watches the peroxide bubble over the laceration before undressing the rest of the way and climbing into the shower. 

The warm water feels good as it beats down over her. It eases her sore muscles and relaxes her from her fight. She finishes in the shower and stands in front of the mirror again. Scars and fresh cuts and bruises cover her body. She looks like a victim, and maybe she is. Maybe she's a victim of what the city is turning back into, or what it has really never stopped being.

She wraps herself in a towel and leaves the bathroom for her room. She pulls an oversized shirt and a pair of boxers from her chest of drawers and puts them on. As she climbs into bed, Tris sits up and rubs her eyes.

“Where have you been?” she asks, her voice groggy. “Uncle Gus is mad at you.”

“Ssh, go back to sleep. Everything is ok. I just had a late night at work,” she whispers to reassure the girl.

Tris mumbles something in response before falling back onto the bed, but Lexa can't understand her. She pulls the covers up to her chin and smiles at the ceiling. The reason she goes out at night, the reason she tracks these people down and forces them to face justice, is asleep across the room. She does it for Tris and Gustus, for everyone in her neighborhood, and for everyone in South Boston. Her smile grows because she finally feels like she's making a difference.


	2. Widow Biter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

The professor drones on about something Clarke has no interest in. She picks up the word 'cardiovascular', but she has no idea what the context is. Instead, she doodles in her notebook. The spirals and circles she draws somehow help to ease the pounding in her head. She promises herself she's done drinking, but she's really not sure she believes that. 

She realizes the lecture is over when she notices her classmates pack up their belongings and head out of the room. Someone trips over her bag as she fumbles with it, and they glare down at her, but she's too hungover to notice or care. Finally able to shove her notebook into her bag, she stands and files in behind the others making their way down the stairs.

Jackson, an older med student and someone Clarke is pretty sure is interested in her, catches up with her in the hallway. 

“Do you think I could borrow your notes? I think I might have missed a few key points,” he says as he falls into step with her.

They walk out of the building, and the blaring sunlight forces Clarke to shield her eyes. She berates herself for not bringing sunglasses, but her eyes adjust quickly enough, and she turns to Jackson with a polite smile. “I didn't take any notes.”

“Yeah, I was a few rows up. I saw your drawings.”

Clarke laughs to try and hide the fact she feels like shit. “They weren't really drawings, mostly just circles.”

“Just not notes.”

“Ok, Jackson, what's your problem,” she asks as she stops in the middle of the sidewalk. People grumble as they navigate around them, but Clarke is still too hungover to notice or care.

“Ever since you stopped seeing that one guy, you've been on a downward spiral,” he responds sheepishly. 

“How do you know about Finn?” She's pretty sure Jackson has never met Finn. He doesn't exactly fit in with her med school friends. 

“Sometimes we would go out to the same bars. You'd always be there with him, and then one night you weren't. That's when I noticed you were starting to tank.” Clarke starts walking again. Even people that didn't know Finn can't stop talking about him. Jackson jogs to catch up and grabs her gently by the arm to stop her. “Look, I'm sorry. Do you want to go to Ninth Inning tonight? I'll buy you a beer as an apology for being an ass. Or creepy. Whichever you prefer to call me.”

He's cute, but he's awkward, and Clarke has no interest in him. She also doesn't want to lead him on, so she lies. “Thanks for the offer, but as you pointed out just now, I'm kind of drowning here. I think I'll just spend the night studying.”

He pulls his hand away from her arm and drops it to his side in disappointment. “What about the library then? I could help you study.”

Bellamy's fight is tonight, but she doesn't want to blow off Jackson or open herself up to the questions by telling him she's going to a boxing match. Maybe her studying isn't really a lie, but he doesn't need to know what her actual plans are.

“I would like that. I really would, but I'm so distracted right now. I just need some time to myself to really focus and get back to my old self.”

That seems to cheer him up some, but Clarke hates that she has to give him even a shred of hope. He pulls his bag around his shoulder and unzips it. He reaches in and pulls out his notebook and holds it out to her. “I didn't really miss any of the key points. You can borrow this if you want. I have an audio version on my phone.”

Clarke isn't surprised that he has two sets of the same notes. It seems exactly like something Jackson would do despite her not knowing him very well. She accepts his notes with a smile even though she has no intention of using them. “Thanks, Jackson. I'll get these back to you tomorrow.”

She stuffs them into her own bag, aware of the apprehensive look Jackson is giving her. Even with an audio version, he doesn't want anything happening to his hard copy. She zips her bag back up and gives the man an awkward pat on the shoulder. She doesn't know why she does it, and she regrets it the instant she does. He takes it as a positive sign and smiles at her. Clarke smiles back but it never reaches her eyes.

“See you later, Clarke,” he says and backs away from her with a wave. He runs into a person behind him and spins around to apologize to the girl. Clarke chuckles and shakes her head but uses the distraction as a means to walk away. 

She feels horrible about manipulating the situation. She wonders if it was ever that way with Finn and tells herself that it probably was. All she knows is she's ready for the fight and to get back to the gym, but not because she wants to see Bellamy or even her father. The thought of seeing Lexa again is really what excites her.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Chairs from the storage room surround one of the rings in the Red Room Gym. It's a small fight, but they are expecting a decent turnout. Bellamy is Jake's best fighter, and the neighborhood is catching on to that fact. 

Clarke walks in with Octavia and Lincoln and finds her dad talking to a group of men with microphones and phones in his face. She catches his eye and he waves over the interviewers. He wraps up his conversation and pushes his way through the small crowd of men.

“Bring back memories of your heyday?” Clarke asks as her father greets her with a hug.

“Those guys? Most of them run blogs. One runs a column for ESPN Boston. He's writing a story for up-and-coming athletes in the city. They want to focus on a different narrative after the Aaron Hernandez fiasco.” He leans over and gives Octavia her own hug before eying Lincoln. “I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“Jake, this is Lincoln,” Octavia introduces the two men.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Clarke grins. One night they're getting drunk from their game of quarters and the next he's calling her dad 'sir'.

“You can call me Jake. Sir makes me feel old or important, and I'm not either of those.” Jake sticks out his hand and Lincoln accepts with a firm shake. “You've got a good look to you. Ever thought about fighting? You could replace Finn on my roster.”

Octavia laughs and links her arm around Lincoln's. “He couldn't hurt a fly. He's one of those artsy types.” 

This offends Lincoln, and he tries to pull away from the woman, but she keeps a firm grip on his arm. “I could be a boxer if I wanted.”

Octavia laughs again and rubs her hand over his arm to reassure him. “Sure, babe. You could be a boxer.”

Clarke is too busy scanning the gym for Lexa to be jealous of the public display of affection or to get upset at the mention of Finn's name. Murphy stands out instantly. He's standing by the men's dressing room entrance, and he smirks when he catches her looking his way. She quickly continues her scan of the gym but is disappointed to find Lexa is not in attendance.

“Well if you ever decide to you want some lessons, you know where to find me. I've gotta head to the back and make sure the guys are ready to go. Any seat in the house is yours, except for the first row. The reporters need to sit there.”

“I'll see you guys later,” Clarke says as she follows Jake to the dressing room. Bellamy exits as they reach the door. His gloves are on and taped, and he's ready for the fight. 

“You ready, kid?” Jake asks as he smacks Bellamy's shoulders to loosen him up. Bellamy simply nods and starts for the ring. 

Clarke is forced to walk beside Murphy as they follow behind, and he takes the opportunity to leer at her again. “Hey, Princess. I thought about it all day and I finally figured it out.” She tries to ignore him, but he keeps on. “Finn's girl right? He never talked about you much. Just that he was seeing someone. But then he ended up on Jake's shit list and never got off it. Now he's off the roster completely. Only way that happens is if he's screwing the boss's daughter.”

Jake is too far ahead of them, and there's too much noise from the small crowd for him to hear Murphy's words. Clarke is grateful for that because she knows the crude way she's being talked to would only lead to a fight. She stops short of the ring and watches Bellamy and her father enter before turning back to Murphy. 

“And what's your excuse?” She laughs at the confused look he gives her. “When you finally get kicked out of the gym, what will be your excuse? I promise it won't be for 'screwing the boss's daughter'.” 

Murphy shrugs his shoulders. “I'm a shitty boxer. I won't really need an excuse to be cut loose.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and walks the rest of the way to the ring. She wants to put as much distance between herself and Murphy as she can, but she knows it won't make a difference. Jake has enlisted his help for this fight, and Clarke doesn't understand why. Her father hates Murphy, so why would he give him this opportunity. 

Bellamy's opponent finally enters the ring, and Jake turns to address the small crowd, “All right ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our one fight of the night. Presiding over this match we have Arthur Hampton, Gerald Stovall, and Martin Sanderson. Our referee for the evening will be Artie O'Sullivan. In this corner,” he says as he points to Bellamy, “weighing in at 174, is Bellamy Blake.”

Lincoln leans over in his chair and whispers in Octavia's ear, “Blake? Do you have any brothers I don't know about?”

“That only happens in movies and tv shows, Lincoln. Blake is a common name,” she scoffs.

They both turn their attention back to the ring to catch the end of Jake's introductions. “In his debut bout, Atom Hughes.”

The crowd claps, and the reporters jot down notes while Jake exits the ring and the two fighters take their corners. Bellamy sits on his stool and Jake massages his shoulders. Clarke isn't sure what to do. She's never been this close to a fight before, and she's never been part of the staff. 

“Good luck,” she offers in a way that she hopes makes her seem less out of place.

“Thanks,” Bellamy nods. He's a man of few words, or maybe he's just focused on the fight, but it's a nice change of pace from Murphy.

“Where's my luck?”

Clarke groans at the sound of the other man's voice, but her dad intervenes. “Shut up, Murphy, and handle the spit bucket.”

Murphy looks down at the bucket on the floor in disgust. “That's my job tonight? I'm in charge of the spit bucket?”

“That's all you're good for,” Jake answers and points to the bucket. Murphy begrudgingly picks it up, and Clarke gives him one of her own smirks. She almost feels sorry for him, but she squashes that feeling as soon as it creeps up within her. This guy deserves whatever belittlement her dad throws at him.

Jake exits the ring with Bellamy's stool and the bell sounds to start the fight. Bellamy meets Atom in the center of the ring, and they touch gloves in a show of respect. They back away, and each man puts his gloves up in defense, circling and waiting for the other to make a move. Bellamy is the first to strike. Clarke knows enough about boxing from her dad's time in the ring to know that Bellamy is a Swarmer. At least that's the style he's showcasing tonight. 

He gets on the inside of Atom and connects with three quick uppercuts before Atom can get a block in. When he does, Bellamy connects with a right hook, sending Atom back several steps. Before he has time to adjust, Bellamy is on him again. This time, Atom is able to counter his blows by wrapping him up. The referee allows only a few seconds to pass before he breaks the clinch apart and restarts the fight.

It surprises Clarke that Atom is able to last the round, and from the looks of the crowd and the reporters, they are surprised too. Jake puts the stool back into the ring and Bellamy collapses onto it. Murphy joins him in the ring and wipes him down. 

“What are you waiting for?” he shouts from the ring down to Clarke as he squirts water into Bellamy's mouth. He holds the bucket out for him to spit any excess liquid into.

She looks to her father, and he gestures for her to join them in the ring. Once Bellamy is done with his water, Clarke looks him over. It doesn't appear Atom landed any significant shots, and she's slightly disappointed by this. She isn't hoping for a bloodbath, but she wants something she can treat. It's the only reason she's here. Well, it's one of the reasons she's here. The other is somewhere else.

The bell sounds again, and the three exit the ring. The two men join each other in the center, but they don't touch gloves this time. Bellamy begins his unrelenting attack again. He lands several body shots and a handful of hooks. Atom is overpowered by a large margin. It is obvious to everyone in the audience that this is his first fight. He is able to connect with a few jabs of his own, but they are mostly attempts to keep Bellamy at bay.

This tactic doesn't work, and with one hard uppercut, Bellamy downs the rookie fighter. The referee jumps between the two men and begins counting, but there is no movement from Atom on the mat. The bell rings at the end of the ten count, and Bellamy is victorious. 

Atom's corner attends to him while Clarke and the others check over Bellamy. She's mildly excited to see Bellamy has a busted lip and a split brow. It isn't much, but it's enough to justify her being here. He sits in his corner and Clarke pulls out her equipment while Murphy helps remove his gloves. She swabs his lip clean and bandages the cut on his eyebrow. 

Bellamy notices her disappointment as she packs up her supplies again. “You should be Murphy's cutman. He gets his ass kicked enough that you might actually learn something from his fights.”

“Fuck off, Bellamy,” Murphy responds. He tugs harder at Bellamy's glove than he needs to and throws it on the mat. “I'm out of here.”

He climbs out of the ring for the last time and leaves without another word. Jake watches him go but doesn't bother trying to stop the young man. “That was a god fight, Blake. A little overzealous there at the beginning but we can work on that. There are a few reporters you'll need to talk to so go get cleaned up.”

Bellamy nods and ducks between the ropes to head for the dressing room. Jake turns his attention to Atom's corner, and he joins them to check that he is ok. Clarke follows behind Bellamy and stops him just short of the dressing room door. 

“Hey, do you want to come out to Molly's Pub with me and a couple of my friends? We could celebrate your win.” 

“Not really much of a win, but sure, you can buy me a beer,” he responds and walks through the door before Clarke has a chance to respond herself.

Did this make it a date? Clarke didn't think so. At least it isn't what she intended by the invitation. That doesn't mean Bellamy feels the same way. 

She finds Octavia and Lincoln still in their chairs. Octavia has her legs thrown over Lincoln's now that most of the seats around them are empty. She hates that things like this still bother her, but they do. She tries to ignore it and sits down next to Octavia.

“Some fight. I'm kind of disappointed it only last two rounds, though. Good thing it was free courtesy of our VIP here.” Octavia swings her legs off of Lincoln and pivots to face Clarke. 

“Bellamy has to do a few interviews but he wants to go out with us after.” Both Octavia and Lincoln give her excited looks but she acts oblivious. 

“Molly's?” Lincoln asks as he stands. He extends his hand down to help Octavia up, and she does the same for Clarke. She hauls her up and throws her arm around her shoulders. Clarke smiles and leans into the embrace.

“Molly's,” they both agree in unison.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Molly's pub is packed, but their small group is able to find a table in the back. Lincoln is about to go to the bar to put in their order when Clarke sees a familiar face. Well, it's her tattoo that catches her eye first. Clarke is glad the woman seems to favor tank tops as much as she does. Her night isn't a complete bust after all.

She goes to the bar in place of Lincoln and tries to calm her nerves. This is what she's been wanting all night, but that doesn't stop the nerves from popping up. She hops up on one of the empty stools and waits for Lexa to notice her. It's busy, so she has to wait longer than she wants.

Finally, Lexa makes it to her end of the bar, and Clarke greets her with a smile. “Hey again,” she says as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She needs something to keep her fidgeting hand occupied.

“Do I know you?” Lexa asks in response. She pulls out her rag and wipes down a spill. Clarke wonders how she could be so stupid. Of course Lexa doesn't know who she is. This is the first time they've ever actually spoken to each other. “Oh, shit. Are you that girl from the gym? The one that kept staring at me?”

At least she knows who Clarke is. It's a start.

“Yep, that would be me. I was just really impressed by your tattoo.” It's a weak attempt at a lie, and Clarke is pretty sure Lexa knows that. Then she notices the bandage on her left arm. “Did you get another one?” 

Confusion washes over her face until Clarke points at the bandage. “Nope. This is just a scratch.”

“I could take a look at it for you if you want. That's kind of why I was at the gym in the first place. To patch you guys up. I'm Clarke, by the way.”

Lexa smiles and shakes her head, and Clarke is pretty sure she wants to see that smile as much as possible.

“Hey, why don't you get her fucking number and take the rest of our orders?” a man yells from further down the bar, and just like that, their moment is ruined. 

“Why don't you shut the hell up and wait, jackass?” Lexa yells back. The smile is gone, and a scowl takes its place.

Clarke is shocked she would speak to a customer like that, and she thinks back to what Murphy and Bellamy said in the gym. Is this the first sign of her being bad news? But Clarke tells herself that the guy asked for it by being impatient and rude.

“I'll just take twelve shots of Jameson and a glass. Oh, and some of those nachos you guys make.” She's upset that their time is cut short, but she doesn't want a fight to break out because she's admiring Lexa's smile. 

Lexa starts pouring the shots, and Clarke groans when she sees the 'No Tabs' sign. 

“The nachos will be out in a few, and I'm Lexa. That guy interrupted us before I could introduce myself,” she says and places the tray of shots in front of Clarke. She rings up the order and Clarke hands over the cash. Lexa is about to say something else when the man down the bar starts yelling again. Instead she takes a deep breath and gives Clarke an apologetic look before walking away.

Clarke stays at the bar to allow herself the opportunity to just watch the other woman. She likes that her hair is down this time. It makes her look younger and more innocent, even when she's yelling at patrons, than she had looked at the gym. The faded jeans are a nice touch too. She's not able to see much in the dark bar, but she can tell the pants hug her body just right. 

She snaps out of it and grabs the tray to leave. Twice now she's been in the same room with Lexa, and twice she's leered at her from across the room. She doesn't want to turn into Murphy and make her uncomfortable. 

“What took you so long?” Octavia asks once Clarke makes it back to the table with their drinks.

“Did you know Lexa works here?” she asks Bellamy and sets the tray down.

“Yeah. They just hired her back. She broke a guy's jaw out in the parking lot about a year ago.”

“Holy shit.” Lincoln turns in his chair to get a better look at her. “That girl broke a man's jaw? No way.”

Bellamy shrugs his shoulders not caring if Lincoln believes him or not. “I've gotta go to the bathroom.”

Octavia watches him go, and her smile widens when she turns back to Clarke. “You should go for it. He's super cute, and he doesn't talk your ear off like Finn.”

“I'm not really interested in a relationship right now,” Clarke says and places the empty glass in the middle of the table.

“Who said anything about a relationship? I'm talking about sex, Clarke. You need to get laid.”

Lincoln laughs and pulls a quarter from his pocket. They each pick up a shot glass from the tray, and Clarke sets one in front of Bellamy's chair next to hers. She tells herself that he is cute, and he doesn't seem like the type that would mind just having sex. She doesn't think it would be weird between them, but she shakes her head. She's not interested in a relationship or sex with Bellamy. 

Bellamy comes back and they play rounds of quarters until their nachos are ready. Bellamy mostly listens to what the others talk about, but Clarke agrees with her dad. He's a pretty decent guy. 

She feels tipsy when she goes back to the bar for a round of beers after they finish their food. Three shots aren't a lot, but it's enough to make her unsure on her feet. The bar is less crowded now, and that makes Clarke happy. It will give her a chance to talk to Lexa again without being interrupted. 

“Ready for more Jameson?” Lexa asks as Clarke slides onto one of the stools. She's surprised she's able to do so without any trouble.

“No. I think we better stick with something lighter.”

“We have some Downeast Cider on tap.”

Even if all they're talking about is alcohol, Clarke enjoys listening to her talk. She's soft spoken but clearly has the ability to get her point across. The man from earlier proving that. 

“Ok, yeah, we'll take four of those.” Clarke realizes she's never had cider before, but she trusts Lexa's suggestion. She barely knows the woman, but she trusts her. As far as alcohol goes anyway. She's still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Lexa was fired for breaking a man's jaw. At least that's what Bellamy claims.

“What game was that you guys were playing?” She starts filling glasses with the cider, and Clarke wonders how she's supposed to get them back to the table. She doesn't want to ask for another tray, and theirs is still sitting on the table. 

“Quarters. You've never played?” Clarke looks back to her table and gives Bellamy a small wave. She feels bad for leaving him alone with Octavia and Lincoln again. It's that time of night where they are ready to be alone.

“Not like that. You looked ridiculous.” Lexa pulls her attention back to the bar where four glasses are waiting for her.

“Maybe you could show me how you play sometime.” She tries to give one of her sexy smiles, but she's not sure it's actually sexy. She really needs to stop drinking if three shots make her feel this way.

“Maybe I will.” Clarke isn't sure Lexa is trying to give her one of her own sexy smiles, but she is sure that she does find it sexy. If she wasn't aware before, she is now. She's not interested in a relationship or sex with Jackson or Bellamy, but she is definitely interested in Lexa. She doesn't care what the others have to say about her.

“Hey, are some of those for us or were you planning on drinking them by yourself?” Bellamy and the others join her at the bar. She's happy that she doesn't have to carry anything to the table. She's all about the small victories in life right now, but she's not happy that another moment with Lexa is ruined. 

Bellamy sits down on the stool next to her and leans over her to pick up one of the glasses. His eyes never leave Lexa's. Lincoln and Octavia sit on the other side of her and set the tray of shot glasses down on the bar, oblivious to the tension. 

“Win your fight?”

“Yep.”

Now Octavia picks up on the iciness. “Do you two know each other?”

“We're part of the same gym,” Bellamy answers.

“Oh, that's interesting.” Octavia grins at Clarke, and she responds with a 'don't start' glare. She knows what Octavia is thinking, and even though she might be having the same thoughts, it's not something she wants Octavia pressing her about.

“This stuff is good. What is it?” Lincoln asks after gulping down his drink.

“Downeast Cider. It's brewed in Charleston. Organic and gluten free.”

Clarke and Octavia laugh. Of course Lincoln likes it. Clarke tries it herself and decides she's a fan too. There's a little bit of tartness, but overall it's sweet. She thinks that sums up Lexa pretty well, but then thinks that's probably the alcohol talking.

“It's too sweet,” Bellamy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and slams the glass back down. Clarke starts to wonder if he likes anyone from the Red Room Gym. First Murphy and now Lexa. Maybe she's been reading him wrong the whole time.

“We should be getting out of here. My firm is working on a big case, so I'll have a long day tomorrow. Do you need a ride, Clarke?” Octavia asks. She knows why they want to leave. The mood has certainly changed since they came to the bar. Bellamy is more guarded now, if that's even possible. 

“I can take her home.”

So this is the point in the night she has to let him down easy. It's just a ride home, sure, but the implications behind it aren't that simple. You agree to let someone take you home, and they think that's an invitation to extend the night. Even if they don't think it's an invitation, there's always the chance they get the wrong idea and think they have a shot. Clarke doesn't want that with Bellamy. He's nice despite his attitude towards Lexa, and she doesn't want to lead him on. This is the second time today she's had to turn a guy down, and it's not something she enjoys.

“No, that's ok. You guys go ahead.”

Lincoln pays for their drinks, finishes off Octavia's glass, and hands her his keys. They stand and Octavia leans in for a hug. It's something they've started doing more of since Raven has been out of the picture, but Clarke is always happy to indulge. “Call me when you get home,” she whispers in her ear and Clarke nods. 

They head for the door, but Bellamy stays seated next to her. He doesn't want to leave Clarke alone with Lexa. “It's really ok, Bellamy. I'm about to call a cab. I just want to try another one of those ciders before they close.”

That seems to reassure him even though she has no plans of having another drink. She just needs an excuse that will ease his mind and get him to leave. He may not want to leave her alone with Lexa, but that's all Clarke wants.

“Ok. Well, thanks for letting me hang out with you guys tonight. I'll see you around at the gym.” He gets up and walks to the door. He glances back at Clarke at the bar, but she's too focused on Lexa to notice. He grips the handle to the door and swings it open with more force than is necessary, but still, Clarke doesn't notice.

“You don't have to call a cab. If you give me thirty minutes, I can drive you home. The rest of the crew can finish up here.”

“I've been told to stay away from you.” Clarke tucks another piece of hair behind her ear. It's starting to become a habit.

Lexa smiles from her spot at the sink and Clarke scoots down a chair to be closer. “Yeah? And who told you that?”

“My dad, Bellamy, and Murphy,” Clarke lists them out for her.

“Your dad is Jake, right? His opinion is about the only one I care about, but even then it doesn't mean he's right about me. Bellamy and Murphy don't know me.”

“Bellamy says you broke a guy's jaw out in the parking lot last year.”

Lexa turns off the faucet and dries her hands before coming to stand in front of Clarke. She leans forward on her elbows, and it forces Clarke's breath to catch in her throat. This is the closest she's ever been to the other woman, not that they've had many opportunities. “I did break a guy's jaw last year. He was mugging a woman walking to her car. Did he not deserve it?”

Clarke doesn't respond. She's too busy staring at the black widow tattooed among the roses on Lexa's bicep. Now that she's close enough, she can see more of the details. There are three large roses clustered together, and each petal is clearly defined on her arm. Clarke has never seen a red so deep. Even the green of the thorns and leaves is beautiful, but the spider is what draws her in. 

It stands on one of the thorns, and two of its legs are reaching for one of the roses. Even the red of the hourglass can be seen peaking out from underneath the spider. Clarke hates spiders, and the sight of this one on Lexa's arm cements that fact. It's beautifully done, but it sends a shiver down her spine.

“Is that why they call you Widow Biter?” she asks after she's able to pull her gaze away. Clarke wants to run her fingers down each of its legs to reassure herself that it isn't real, but mostly she wants to feel Lexa's skin under her fingertips. 

Lexa looks down at her arm and does what Clarke doesn't have the courage to do, she traces over the spider. “That's part of it. Let me get you home.”

Clarke waits outside as Lexa finishes up and says her goodbyes, but it doesn't take long before they're walking through the parking lot to Lexa's car. It's a beat up early 90s Mustang. The dirt and dust stand out against the black paint and one of the headlights is busted, but Clarke likes it.

They climb inside and a Dropkick Murphys song blares through the speakers. Lexa reaches for the volume knob and turns it down as quickly as she can, but Clarke can't help the smile that forms.

“Of course you listen to Dropkick Murphys,” she says through her grin.

Lexa punches a button and Taylor Swift replaces the strums of a banjo. “More your style?”

Clarke laughs and turns the tuner until she gets to a local news station. The reporter goes through a list of headlines, but none of them have anything to do with the recent drug busts except that the cops are on the lookout for whoever is responsible. 

Lexa turns off the radio, and the next few minutes are spent in silence, but Clarke doesn't mind. The silence is calming, and it gives her time to think, even if the thoughts are ones she doesn't want to be having. She thinks about med school and wonders if it's even something she wants to continue to pursue. She thinks about Finn and what a mistake it had been striking up a conversation with him at her apartment's gym. She thinks about Raven and how much she misses her. She even allows herself to think about her mom, and she can't remember the last time she's done that. She can't even remember the last time she's seen her mom. Then she circles back around to med school. Her mom is the reason she wants to be a doctor, but she's not sure if it's a good enough reason anymore. 

Wanting to take her mind off of everything except the woman driving her home, she starts directing Lexa through the streets of Boston. After getting off of the highway, it doesn't take long for Lexa to pull up to the apartment's gates. Clarke has a much easier time punching the code into the keypad because this time all she has to do is have Lexa do it.

Even the stairs are easier to manage with Lexa climbing them behind her. She stops in front of her door and turns to face the woman. This is the part that scares her. She has turned down two men today, wanting to let them down easy, but she hopes Lexa doesn't do the same to her. Clarke never does this. Except for that one time with Harper, she never does this.

“Do you want to come in?” she asks as she pulls her keys out of her bag. 

Lexa thinks about it, but she never does this either. Not even with girls named Harper. She shakes her head and takes a step back towards the stairs. “I hardly know you, and you've been drinking.”

“Oh, I didn't mean to,” she starts, but she knows it's a lie so trails off. She unlocks the door and opens it. Part of her hopes Lexa will change her mind while she awkwardly stands in the doorway, but it doesn't happen. 

“Goodnight, Clarke.” It isn't much, but the small smile she gives Clarke is enough to make up for the rejection.

“Goodnight.”

Back in her car, Lexa pulls out her backpack from the backseat. She pulls out a map and unfolds it. There are tiny red circles all over the city from the months she has spent casing it. Three of the circles are crossed out with a black marker, but half a dozen still remain. She taps the closest circle on the map and starts the car. 

Even if part of her wants to go back upstairs and take Clarke up on her offer, she knows she can't be distracted right now. She still has work to do.  
~~~~~~~~~~

She comes to a stop several blocks away from her target. It's a residential street, so she'll need to be more careful. She pulls her black sweatshirt on over her head, the rip in the sleeve still there. Then she pulls down her visor and starts braiding her hair. Next comes the eye black. She never worries about how good it looks. She just spreads enough across her face to conceal her identity. Finally she pulls her hood over her head and gets out. She stuffs her keys into pocket on her backpack and slides the straps over her shoulder, but she knows she needs to come up with something better. The bag is an easy target for someone looking to grab ahold of her. There are a lot of things she still needs to tweak, but it's a work in progress.

The street is dark enough for her to creep through it undetected. This is her favorite part. It's almost like she's the hunter stalking her prey, and they have no idea what's in store for them. She stands across the street and stares at the house that's marked on her map. None of the lights are on, but she knows this is the place she's looking for.

Either the occupants have packed up and left for the night, or that's what they want her to think. She goes with option number two. There's no way they would leave any inventory unguarded, and she knows the size of the operation that goes on here. This is the place she has monitored the most. People come and go from this house at all hours. The same van that she has seen at other buildings and houses on her map is the most frequent visitor. 

The van is present, but it's parked three houses down. This surprises her since it hasn't been at any of her other busts. Something is off about this one, but she works up enough courage to cross the street and hop the fence. Back doors are always easier to break in through than front doors. 

She pulls out her lock picking set from her back pocket and gets to work on the lock. This is something else that needs to be better, more efficient. She spends too much time trying to get in quietly. Jimmying the door open would save time, but it's too loud. The lock clicks and she puts her tools away. 

This is it. This is the moment she's been waiting for all day. She knows she should wait longer between each bust, but the adrenaline rush she gets with each one is too much to ignore. She's like a junkie ready for her next fix. This is what it's like stepping into the ring. Her heart beats faster and her eyes become more focused. She takes a deep breath and opens the door.

The house is ordinary like any other house you find in South Boston. Pictures hang on the wall, a TV sits in the corner, and a leather sofa rounds out the living room. It isn't much, but Lexa knows all of it is just set dressing. Its only purpose is to conceal the fact that this house is a meth lab.

She finds the basement door easily enough and descends the stairs. The further she goes, the darker it gets. There is no outside light creeping in here. Her eyes adjust, and she's able to locate the equipment and supply in the back of the room. She strides over to it and pulls out her bottle of bleach from her bag. She stops short of emptying its contents into the bin holding the most recent batch. 

That feeling is back. Something isn't right about this. The other busts didn't go this smoothly. She shouldn't have been able to find this stash without a fight. Then she hears a creak on the steps. She whirls around, the bleach in her hand forgotten.

“We knew you'd show up here. I have to say, though, I didn't expect you so soon.” The man's voice is deep, and even in the darkness she can tell his size will be an issue. His outline in the doorway shows him to be 6'4 at least and pushing 220. The other men were smaller. The other men had guns though. She hopes that isn't the case with this one.

“Nothing to say? I thought you vigilante types were all about running your mouth. Or is that just a New York thing?”

Lexa runs through her inventory in her head. She has no weapon, yet another thing she needs to change. She does have the bleach, but if she uses it on this man, she has nothing left to destroy the drugs. She could leave it for the cops, but she's not sure she can trust them. Not all of them anyway.

Then she decides to do something stupid. It's the same thing she does in the ring. Make your opponent so angry that they become sloppy. There's no way she can take this man on without some sort of advantage. She just hopes using his anger against him will be enough.

She untwists the cap and begins pouring it over the batch. The man roars in anger and rushes down the stairs. She's just able to empty the last of the bleach before he throws her onto the table. Beakers and other glass equipment shatter around her, but it at least answers the question of how she was going to destroy it too.

“The boss wants you alive, but I think he might make an exception.” He has her pinned down on the table, his weight pressing into her. She can feel pieces of glass ripping at her sweatshirt, but it's thick enough to keep it away from her skin for the time being. She can't afford to stay in this position much longer though.

He lifts one of his hands from her arms, and it's enough of an opening to smash her palm up into his nose. He staggers backwards, cursing at her, and reaching for something at his side. Lexa doesn't wait to find out what it is. She grabs her empty bleach bottle and bolts for the door. 

She's halfway up the stairs when the man grabs her backpack and flings her back down into the basement. She has just enough time to bring the bottle up to block the knife coming down towards her chest. It pierces through the plastic, but it's strong enough to keep it from slicing all the way through. She twists her hands and dislodges the knife from his grip. 

She pulls the knife free, but a punch to her stomach sends it sliding across the room. She doesn't care, she just needs to get out of here. He's too much for her, and she's unarmed. While he feels around in the dark for the knife, she takes the opportunity to try and escape again. She's able to make it to the living room before he's on her again. 

He slams her into the wall and sends the picture frames clattering to the floor. They are making enough noise for someone to hear and call the cops about the disturbance. That's her MO, but she's always made sure she's away from the scene when they arrive. She's not sure that will be the case this time.

The blade of the knife catches a light from outside, and it gleams in her eye. “You've caused a lot of trouble. Lets get a look at you.” He places the knife to her throat, but he's unable to pin her hands behind her. He gives up and leans his weight into her to keep her in place, but it gives her enough time to pull one of her picks free from the kit in her back pocket. Just as he's about to pull her hood down, she plunges the pick deep into his left eye. 

The man screams, and if they hadn't been making enough noise before, that definitely alerts the neighborhood. He stumbles backwards, and Lexa pulls the pick free with a sickening pop. Once again he grabs her as she tries to run by. This man won't quit, and Lexa begins to panic. She can't die here, she hasn't accomplished everything she needs to.

Not playing around anymore, the man slams the knife into Lexa's right side and buries it to the hilt. Lexa gasps in pain as white light explodes in her eyes. They both fall to the ground in a heap. Half of the man's body covers hers, but it seems he's finally passed out from the pain. Lexa is on the verge of doing the same. She tries rolling the man off of her but the knife pulls at her side, stopping her movement. She reaches down to pull it free but thinks better of it. She can't leave a pool of her blood behind. She tries again to roll the man off of her and fights through the knife ripping deeper into her side. Succeeding in moving him, she stands on unsteady legs and grabs her bleach bottle from the floor next to the man. She knows she won't be able to climb the fence in the back so she settles for the front door. She just hopes neighbors haven't gathered outside. 

She opens the door with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and notices a man looking through his blinds across the street, but that's the only activity she sees. She runs as fast as she can to her car, but the knife digging into her side makes that difficult. 

Groaning when she realizes her keys are in the bag, she pulls it off of her shoulders and fishes them out. She unlocks the door and throws the bottle and bag onto the passenger seat and climbs in. She doesn't bother with a seat belt. There's no way she could get it buckled with a knife sticking out of her.

The adrenaline rush starts to wear off as she races through the streets, but she tells herself she just needs to stay conscious for a few more minutes. Blowing through red lights at this time of night is a sure way to draw attention from cops, but none appear to be patrolling the streets. 

She finally screeches to a halt in front of the gates of Clarke's apartment. She punches in the code she remembers from earlier and floors it through the opening once it's large enough to fit her car. She parks in a handicap spot, but if this isn't a good reason for the spot to be used, she doesn't know what is. She tries to wipe the eye black from her face, but she's pretty sure she just smears it around with blood.

The stairs prove to be the most difficult. Each step sends agonizing pain through her, and she's pretty sure she's left a trail of blood through the complex. She looks down and sees the sweatshirt is soaked with it, but it has done a good job absorbing it. Only a few drops can be seen on the steps.

She finally makes it to Clarke's door and bangs on it. She hopes she doesn't wake her neighbors, but she needs to be loud enough in case Clarke is asleep. It takes a few minutes, and Lexa is about to bang on the door again when she hears the chain being undone and the lock turning. She has just enough time to lower her hood before Clarke opens the door.

“Oh my God, Lexa. What the hell happened to you?” Clarke asks, horrified at the sight in front of her. Blood covers Lexa, and she is gripping at her side. That's when she sees the handle of the knife.

“I need your help.”


	3. Dark Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all of the feedback!

Clarke pulls her into her apartment and makes sure no one else is in the hallway before she closes her door. Lexa staggers to her dining room table and falls into a chair. Rushing to her bathroom, Clarke comes back with a first aid kit. 

She squats down in front of Lexa and moves the woman's hand away from the knife. She cuts through her sweatshirt and tank top with a pair of scissors and pulls the material away from the sticky weapon.

“Fuck,” Lexa hisses through her clenched teeth. 

“How did this happen? How were you even able to make it here like this?” Clarke asks as she begins cleaning off the area. Lexa doesn't answer. Her head is tilted back and her breath is heavy. Clarke can tell she's about to lose consciousness. “Lexa, I can't do this. I need to call 911.”

“No cops.”

“I was drinking earlier, and you need proper...” Clarke begins but is interrupted by Lexa.

“No cops.”

Clarke sits back on her heels and studies the wound. If she pulls the knife out, there's a risk of an even greater amount of blood loss. Even to the point Lexa might bleed out in the chair, but she can't leave the knife where it is, and she can't call the cops. 

“If you bleed out and die, it's your own fault.”

Lexa tries to laugh but grimaces and clutches her side instead.

Clarke gathers as much gauze as she can from her first aid kit and grabs ahold of the knife's handle. “This is gonna hurt like hell,” she warns as she begins putting pressure around the knife. She pulls slowly and steadily, not wanting to lacerate the woman more than she already is, but she has no idea what kind of damage Lexa has done to herself in order to get here.

The knife pulls free, and a steady stream of blood follows behind it. It's a lot, but it's not enough to make Clarke think Lexa has nicked anything major. She pushes the gauze onto the gash and applies as much pressure as she thinks Lexa can handle.

“You still need to explain to me what happened. I don't just go around pulling knives out of women I hardly know.”

Lexa sits up in her chair and takes over applying the pressure. Clarke grabs a bowl from the kitchen and hydrogen peroxide from her bathroom. The first aid kit has fishing line in it. She makes sure every kit she has comes with a roll of the stuff. She's a city girl through and through, but she knows how useful it can be.

“Are you done?” Lexa asks from her spot in the dining room.

“No, I'm not done. Had I known you'd be showing up at my apartment with a knife sticking out of you, I would have been better prepared.” She lays the rest of her supplies on the table and scoots a chair closer to Lexa. “Are you always so impatient?”

“Only when I've been stabbed.”

Clarke can't help it, but she laughs. It's not the right situation to laugh, she knows that, but it's reassuring that Lexa is a smartass even on the verge of death. After pouring some peroxide into the bowl, she cuts off a long strip of the fishing line and adds it to the bowl with a sewing needle.

She pours more peroxide on a swabbing cloth and moves Lexa's hands away from her side. “This is gonna hurt like hell.”

“You already said that,” Lexa reminds her and grips the chair as Clarke pulls the gauze away to clean out the wound. This is worse than being stabbed. She comes to the conclusion that if it ever happens again, she's just going to lay there and die.

“Tell me what happened or I'll make it hurt worse.”

Lexa groans, mostly in pain but there is a hint of annoyance. She didn't think Clarke would patch her up with no questions asked, but she doesn't have a good enough lie for her. 

“I was mugged.” It's the first thing that comes to her head.

Clarke is satisfied with her work in stopping the bleeding and cleaning the area and threads the sterilized line through the needle. “You were mugged?” she asks as she begins the task of stitching Lexa up. Her head begins to droop forward, forcing Clarke to stop after one stitch. “I need you to stay conscious and lean back. You're gonna make me rip the stitches out.”

Clarke knows the blood loss is getting to Lexa. She's not sure how she hasn't passed out by now.

Lexa nods her head in, what Clarke assumes, response to the mugging question, but it isn't good enough to appease her.

“You braided your hair, put on a black hoodie, and I don't even know what's all over your face, and you want me to believe you're the one that got mugged?”

Lexa only nods again.

“Dammit, Lexa. You're making it really hard for me to not believe everyone else about you. Do you know how bad this looks? If you were mugged, we need to call the cops.”

“No cops.” 

Clarke decides to spend the rest of the time stitching her up in silence. She's angry and confused, and she doesn't want to say something that might anger the other woman. She's half dead, but Clarke doesn't know what she's capable of. 

Finishing up, she bandages Lexa's side and stands. Her back is killing her from being stooped over for so long, but she'll live. So will Lexa, who has somehow managed to pass out in the chair without Clarke realizing.

Clarke can't help but smile. Lexa is either a criminal or a really bad liar, but she looks so innocent sitting here with her head tilted back. She busies herself with cleaning up her supplies and leaves Lexa where she is. She knows she should move Lexa, but she doesn't. Part of her is scared of waking the other woman, but mostly she just wants her to rest.

The rest doesn't last long, though. Whether it's her position or the noise Clarke makes in the kitchen, Lexa wakes up after just a few minutes. “What happened?”

“You passed out,” Clarke answers from behind the kitchen counter.

“Look, thanks for putting me back together, but I need to get going.” Lexa tries to stand, but her legs are too weak.

“You aren't going anywhere. You don't want me to call the cops? Fine, but you're staying here. You need to rest.”

Lexa looks around the apartment and focuses on the couch. “Where am I supposed to sleep? That doesn't look very comfortable.”

Clarke turns and looks at the piece of furniture and smirks because she knows just how uncomfortable it is. It's no easy task sleeping on that thing. “It isn't. It's more of a decorative piece, but I promise it's more comfortable than whatever ditch you'll crash into if you leave.” Part of her wants to offer her a place in her bed. Even with not knowing whether or not Lexa is a criminal, she's still attracted to her, but she doesn't make the offer. “Let me get you something to wear.”

Lexa looks down at herself and shakes her head. “Look at me, I'll ruin whatever you give me.”

Clarke sighs and walks over to her to help her up. “Use my bathroom to clean yourself up. Just try not to hurt yourself.”

“You don't want to help me?” Lexa grins, but it falters just as quickly as it appears. She's still too weak from the blood loss.

“Nope. You had your chance.” She helps her to the bathroom and gives her some privacy. It's hard to not follow her, but she keeps her resolve and walks back to the living room to get the couch ready.  
~~~~~~~~~~

It's not until she has the couch covered in sheets and blankets that she realizes she never showed Lexa where any towels, rags, or other bathroom essentials are. She picks up her first aid kit and goes back to the bathroom. It's quiet, a little too quiet for Clarke's liking.

“Lexa?” she calls out while knocking on the door.

“I can't get my sweatshirt off.”

Clarke opens the door and finds Lexa sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Her hair is unbraided, and her face is damp but clean of the blood and whatever else had been mixed with it. Clarke sets her first aid kit down on the counter and pulls out the scissors.

“You should have said something sooner.”

“I tried ripping it off, but that hurt worse than trying to pull it over my head,” she says and points down at her tattered hoodie.

Clarke closes the distance, cuts through the material, and peels it away from Lexa. She drops it to the floor and turns back to cut her tank top away, but Lexa stops her.

“I had my chance, remember?” Clarke smiles and hands over the scissors. She pulls a towel out of the linen closet before she exits to once again give the woman privacy.

She goes to her closet and pulls out an old softball jersey from her intramural days at BU. She digs around in her drawers for a pair of shorts she thinks will fit Lexa, and she sets it all on the bed for her to find when she's done in the bathroom before going back to the couch.

She decides it really isn't all that comfortable and contemplates again letting Lexa share the bed with her, but she thinks better of it. To take her mind off of the thought, she opens her laptop and starts surfing WCVB's site for any other news on the drug busts.

The top story of the night is titled 'Dark Justice' and a blurry cell phone picture accompanies it. It's hard for Clarke to make anything out, but the picture captures a dark figure exiting a house. Curiosity runs wild, and Clarke clicks the link to open the story.

“Shortly after 2:00 AM in the 500 block of Marsh Lane, a hooded figure was seen leaving a house later confirmed by police to be another methamphetamine lab. No suspects were found at the scene, but this is the first real piece of evidence that a vigilante has taken justice into their own hands. WCVB will keep you updated as more information is made available.”

She sets the computer down on the coffee table and glances in the direction of the bathroom. Lexa shows up at her door with a knife stabbed into her abdomen. She's wearing a black hoodie like the person in the picture appears to be wearing, and she's covered in blood. But she talks herself out of that line of reasoning. The person in the picture doesn't look like they're hurt, and she's pretty sure everyone in the city of Boston owns something that could be mistaken for a black sweatshirt in a blurry picture. She doesn't believe Lexa's mugging story, but she also doesn't believe Lexa could be the vigilante either.

Clarke is about to look away and try to find more information on 'Dark Justice' when Lexa walks down the hall. She smiles at how different she looks in the old jersey and baggy shorts. “Thanks for the clothes. I tried cleaning up the bathroom as much as I could, but I think you should just throw that towel away.” She drops her ruined clothes and her shoes in a pile next to the dining room chair she had occupied earlier and joins Clarke on the couch. “I'll pay you back for it.”

“Don't worry about it. I just want you to rest now. You lost a lot of blood.”

Lexa nods, but the news story and the picture catch her attention. “What is that?” 

Clarke shuts the computer like she's just been caught looking at something she shouldn't have been. “Just one of those vigilante stories.”

Lexa studies her for a long while. Longer than Clarke is comfortable with, and she begins to fidget in her spot on the couch. “That sort of thing interests you.” It isn't a question, so Clarke doesn't bother answering. “I think you should just ignore it. I'm sure it's nothing.”

“The first time it might have been nothing, but the fact that it keeps happening proves that it is something. I think it's awesome.”

“I think you're crazy if that sort of thing excites you.”

Clarke should be offended by this, but she's not. She's exhausted and ready for bed, and Lexa looks just as terrible as Clarke feels. “I think you need to shut up and rest. I'll see you in the morning.”

She grabs her laptop from the table and leaves the room without another word. Lexa is left to watch her go, worry creeping through her.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Lexa wakes the next morning feeling hung over. She's not sure if this is the normal reaction after the trauma she suffered the night before, but she is sure it's the worst pain she's ever been in. Her muscles are sore from the fight, or the couch, and her side is in a blaze of pain from the stab wound. 

She throws the covers off and pads across the room to her belongings. Each step sends another stab of pain through her. She doesn't bother changing. Instead, she slips on her shoes over her bare feet and gathers her clothes. Not wanting to wake Clarke, she opens the front door as quietly as she can and leaves the apartment. She feels guilty for bailing like this, but Gustus is probably wondering where she is, and he's not a man she likes to anger.

The drive back to her apartment takes longer than usual, mostly because she drives by the house from the night before. Police crime scene tape is set up around the house, and two cop cars are in the driveway. She's glad that they are cleaning the scene and collecting evidence, but she hopes they don't find anything that connects her to it. The fact that the man had also escaped worries her, but she thinks the likelihood of the cops finding something to identify him is greater than them finding something on her.

When she enters the apartment, Gustus is there waiting for her. He has dark circles under his eyes and a cup of coffee in his hand. He eyes her bundled up clothes and her backpack slung over her shoulder. 

“Where have you been?” he asks after he takes a sip from his mug. He sounds as tired as he looks.

“With a girl.” It's not entirely a lie, and she hopes it's enough to keep him from asking anymore questions. 

She makes her way slowly through the apartment to the room she shares with Tris, but Gustus notices the way she moves and stops her short. He sets his cup down on the table next to the couch and stands. He crosses the room and takes the clothes from her hands before Lexa can stop him and notices the blood.

He pulls up Clarke's softball jersey and reveals her bandages. “What did I tell you about this shit? It's gonna get you killed or thrown in prison like your father.” He drops her shirt back in place and takes her clothes to the kitchen to throw them away. It's not the first time he's thrown away one of her black hoodies. 

“How can you just stand by and watch everything my dad tried to stop keep happening?” She tries to keep her voice low, unsure if Tris is home, but her anger almost gets the best of her.

“Your dad had these grand schemes and ideas about how he was going to make South Boston a better place. Defecting out of the Irish Mob and trying to force them out of the city. Admirable, but stupid. He got a lifetime sentence because of it, and the man he went up against is up for parole. Now you want to piss off the same people, Lexa?” He comes back to stand in front of her and holds his hand out for her backpack. She hands it over knowing it's useless to try and disobey. He rifles through it and pulls out the crushed and stabbed through bottle of bleach. “You know what they're calling you now that they have a picture of you? Dark Justice. More like Dead Woman Walking if you keep this up.”

“It was one mistake, and I handled it. I'll keep handling it,” she says, no longer able to keep her voice lowered. 

“One mistake? Someone got a picture of you. You were stabbed. Someone obviously patched you up, and I'm betting it wasn't a doctor. You want to take on these guys on? Use the proper channels. File complaints with the police department or give anonymous tips. This isn't New York, leave the vigilante shit alone.” He stuffs the bottle back into the bag and hands it back over to her. 

“The cops are corrupt. You know that.” She throws one of the bag's straps over her shoulder and inches toward her room. She's ready for this conversation to be over and hates that he even knows her secret. She remembers how careless she had been after that first bust.

“Even Anya?”

Lexa doesn't bother giving a response. Maybe he has a point about all of this, but she's too far gone to stop now, and she doesn't want to involve her friend. She might be one of the few good cops left on the force, but that doesn't mean Lexa needs to endanger her. Ignoring her uncle as he calls after her, she goes to her room and closes the door behind her happy to see Tris isn't home. Exhaustion grips her, the drive home and conversation with Gustus too much for her, and she falls into her bed and lets sleep consume her.  
~~~~~~~~~~

It's been days since that night with Lexa, and things are back to normal for Clarke. She waits in line at a small coffee stand on campus. She's tired, but not from staying out too late with friends or drinking this time but studying instead. She finally feels like she has her mojo and her confidence back. 

“Hey,” she hears a familiar voice say from behind her. She turns and sees Raven standing there, but she ignores her and turns back around. “I haven't talked to you in forever. You haven't returned any of my calls or texts.” Clarke continues to ignore her as they move forward in line. “The thing with Finn...he was lonely. You were growing distant, too consumed with school.”

The man in front of Clarke turns his head with a questioning look, not sure who Raven is talking to. Clarke gives him an apologetic look and faces the girl once again.

“That's rich. Blame me for the mistake you two made.”

“I'm not blaming you. I'm just giving you a reason.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Med school is time consuming. He knew that when we started dating.” The girl behind Raven points to the line moving in front of them, and Clarke moves along with the rest of them.

“Engineering is time consuming too, but I still make time for other people.” She scoots closer to Clarke, and Clarke bumps into the man behind her when she tries to move away.

“Watch it,” he says over his shoulder, but she ignores him. She's too angry to register anything else.

“Fuck you, Raven.”

She's about to jump out of line and leave when Raven grabs ahold of her arm and pulls her back. “Can we just start over? 

Clarke sighs and runs her hand through her hair to calm herself down. She wants to start over too. Not having Raven in her life anymore is hard. “Maybe. I don't know. I have my own stuff going on right now. I'm making time for other things, other people.”

That hurts Raven, she can tell, but she doesn't really care. She may miss her, but Clarke still hasn't forgiven her. The line continues to move, and Clarke turns her back on her old friend, ending the conversation for now. 

Once she has her coffee, she sets off across the yard and sees Finn standing on the opposite sidewalk. He waves with a sheepish smile on his face. 

She takes a sip from her cup and continues to her lecture, ignoring him completely.  
~~~~~~~~~~

After her lecture and rounds, Clarke decides to pay a visit to the Red Room Gym. The fact that she hasn't seen Lexa since she took care of her bothers her. She walks through the door and spots her right away jumping rope in the corner of the gym.

Not believing what she sees, she rushes over and stands just out of reach of the swinging rope with her hands on her hips. Lexa takes the hint and stops her exercise. 

“Hey,” she says out of breath.

“Hey? I don't see you for almost a week, and I find you here doing that? You're gonna pull your stitches.”

Jake sees them talking from across the room and stops holding a bag for one of his other fighters to interrupt their conversation. “Lexa, I was able to line up a fight with Britney Halls. Two weeks is a little short notice, but I think you'll be ready.”

It takes a minute for Lexa to realize who Britney Halls is. She hasn't heard that name in ages. The boxer prefers to go by her fighting name of Echo, given to her on account of every girl she's ever knocked out saying they have a ringing in their ears afterwards. 

“Two weeks is fine.”

“What? No it isn't. You aren't fit enough for a fight.”

Jake eyes his daughter suspiciously. “You're a cutman for one fight, and all of a sudden you're a trainer? She looks fit enough to me. Can I talk to you in my office?”

“Will you give me a few minutes? I need to finish talking to Lexa.”

Jake nods, but he isn't happy about leaving his daughter alone with the other woman. Reluctantly, he leaves and walks to his office.

Lexa takes a seat on the bench against the wall and wipes off her face with her towel. She pulls tape from her bag and begins taping her hands and wrists. Her work mesmerizes Clarke to the point she forgets what she wants to say. Even something as simple as looping tape around her hands is done gracefully and smoothly. 

Clarke snaps herself out of it and joins her on the bench. “You can't take part in that fight.”

“I have to. It's important to me.” She doesn't take her eyes off of her work with the tape, and Clarke grows impatient. Knowing that she doesn't have a chance in changing her mind right now, she leaves to join her father in his office. 

Before she even has a chance to shut the door, he's already up from his chair and around his desk. “What was the one thing I told you when you started all of this?” Clarke shrugs her shoulders, genuinely confused about what he's talking about. “Don't get friendly with any of them. You need to stay away from Lexa, and I know you went out with Bellamy the other night. I don't want you to start dating him.”

“I don't want to date him, but that doesn't mean I can't spend time with him. If all of these people are so bad, if you are so scared of me being around them, why are they on your roster?”

“I made a promise to Lexa's Uncle. I intend to keep it. You saw Bellamy fight. I would be an idiot to not have him at my gym. It takes a certain kind of character to be fighters like they are.”

“Give me a break, Dad. You were a champion once. Do you have that certain kind of character?” 

He picks up the picture of him and the Irish mob boss. He turns it to her and points at the man he has his arm around. “What do you think?”

“I think that was a long time ago, and everyone deserves a chance. Are any of your fighters as bad as him? As bad as you might have been?”

He sighs and sets the picture back down. “They are getting their chance here, and even if they aren't as bad as the two men in that picture, because I am not that man anymore, doesn't mean I want my daughter spending time with them. Octavia and Raven are nice girls, and Lincoln seems like a decent guy. Stick to them.”

“Raven is so nice, she screwed my boyfriend.”

“Because it was Finn. Clarke, the people here bring out the worst in everyone else. You've already had experience with that. I just hope you won't have anymore.”

“I get it. I really do. You're so used to seeing the bad in people, so you never look for the good. Whatever sins you committed in the past, don't assume Lexa and Bellamy are capable of the same.”

She's done with this conversation. She's done with his overprotectiveness. This is the time in her life that she needs to be making mistakes. Not that she thinks getting to know either Lexa or Bellamy is a mistake, but if it turns out that way, then this is the time for it. Finn might be a warning sign, but cheating is a long way away from what her dad thinks some of these people are capable of.

“Clarke, wait.” He tries to stop her as she walks out the door, but it's no use. 

He shares a look with Lexa after Clarke leaves. Unable to read the young woman, he turns back to his office, and Lexa begins pounding away at the bag again.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Lincoln suggests Molly's, and the only reason Clarke agrees is because she hopes she'll run into Lexa again. She regrets leaving the gym the way she did since there are still things the two need to discuss, so when she sees her standing behind the bar, she's unable to contain her excitement.

“I'll get the drinks, guys,” she says as she weaves her way through the crowd of people. Octavia smirks at her retreating back and pulls Lincoln to a corner booth. 

“Hey,” Clarke calls out over the noise, and Lexa's face brightens when she sees her.

“Hey, Clarke. This is Anya.” She points to the woman standing in front of the bar, and Clarke sticks out her hand in greeting.

Anya accepts, and they shake hands while Clarke's imagination runs wild. Is this Lexa's girlfriend? Is Lexa even attracted to girls? Anya is gorgeous, how could Lexa not be attracted to her? Then she remembers the night she invited Lexa back to her place, and she mentally kicks herself for assuming Lexa would be interested. 

“How's it going?” Anya asks and pulls her hand free of Clarke's grasp. 

“Anya's a cop for the Boston PD. She's fresh out of the academy and a big girl now.” Lexa reaches over the bar and pinches one of Anya's cheeks only to have her hand swatted away. Clarke laughs and enjoys the moment. She hasn't known Lexa very long, but this is a side to her she hasn't seen yet.

“So are you two a thing?” She doesn't want to ask the question, but she needs to.

Laughter erupts out of Anya, and confusion is written all over Lexa's face. “God, Anya, you act like it would be terrible.”

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I've known Lexa since she was in diapers. It would just be weird.”

Relief washes over Clarke, and she allows herself to laugh along with Anya. 

“Whatever, what do you want to drink, Clarke?” Lexa is more annoyed than she is hurt, but Clarke can't help but think the way she pouts is cute. She doesn't think cute is a term used to describe Lexa much.

“Actually, I need to talk to you. Do you have a minute?” Anya grins, and Lexa rolls her eyes at the woman. “Really, all I need is to talk to you,” she confirms in an effort to stop Anya's teasing.

“Yeah, they all say that right up until...”

“Ok, Clarke we can go to the back,” Lexa interrupts. 

The two walk down the length of the bar, and Clarke waits at the end while Lexa informs the other bartender that she's taking a break.

Lexa finally joins her and takes her by the hand to lead her through the building to the alley. Clarke enjoys the way her hand feels on top of her own. Maybe talking isn't all she wants to be doing, but Lexa drops her hand as soon as they are outside.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Clarke digs around in her oversized purse for her phone. She tells herself that she should have worn jeans. This dress doesn't allow her to store her phone in any pocket, and she doesn't want to be wasting time searching for it. 

“Clarke, I can't be out here all night.”

“Got it!” She pulls her phone out and goes to her downloaded pictures before handing it over to Lexa. “Swipe right.”

Lexa does as she's told, and her face grows darker with each passing picture until she reaches the last one, a mugshot of Echo. “Why are you showing me this?” 

“I did a little research. All of those guys involved in the drug busts, Irish Mob. Except the last one, no suspects were found at the scene, which tells me something went wrong. Like someone getting stabbed maybe. There haven't been any other raids since you've been hurt, and the fight with Echo is important to you because of her ties to the mob, isn't it? Lexa, if I can figure out who Dark Justice is, anyone can.”

Lexa hands the phone over and stands in silence for longer than Clarke is comfortable with. She's about to speak up again, when Lexa finally responds. “I told you to stay out of it, Clarke.”

“How can I? You literally brought it to my front door. You're going to get yourself killed or get someone else killed, and then all of your other petty crimes you've been arrested for will look like nothing compared to a murder charge.”

“I'm not planning on killing anyone.”

“Were you planning on getting stabbed?”

Lexa brushes past her on her way back to the door. “Leave it alone. Please.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

Octavia and Lincoln call it a night after another failed attempt to cheer Clarke up. It surprises her that they lasted as long as they have. They are good friends, and she wishes she could be a better one for them. She can hardly listen to Octavia's issues at her firm, and Lincoln's stress at the gallery is even less interesting. All she can think about is her conversation with Lexa and how much she screwed it up. 

She hasn't talked to her since, not even when ordering more drinks. Now the bar is about to close, and her friends are ready to go. She doesn't blame them for leaving her to find her own way home. She practically pushes them out of the bar and continues to nurse her drink when they're gone. 

Lexa is wiping down tables, but makes sure to stay as far away from Clarke's as she can. Clarke even watches her tell the other employees to work around her table. When they leave, Lexa pulls a bottle of Jameson from the shelf and picks up freshly washed shot and old fashioned glasses. She sits on the opposite booth bench and puts her supplies on the table.

“If I show you the right way to play quarters, will you be in a better mood?” She fills up the shot glass with the pale whiskey and pulls a quarter from her pocket.

“I'm not in a bad mood,” she says stubbornly. They both know she's upset.

“Then you won't mind a game.” Lexa bounces the edge of the quarter off of the table into the old fashioned glass with ease. “That's it. That's how you play. I'm not sure what version you were playing, but it's wrong.”

She pushes the shot of Jameson across the table, and Clarke gulps it down. “Looks easy enough,” she says and fishes the quarter from the other glass while Lexa pours another shot. She tries to use the same technique, but she uses too much power, and the coin ends up clearing the glass completely before rolling into Lexa's lap. 

Lexa picks up the quarter from her lap and sinks it into the glass again, and Clarke finishes off another shot. Her next turn fares a little better than the first. She at least hits the glass this time. 

Two more rounds pass by, and Lexa still hasn't missed a single shot, nor has Clarke made any of hers. She's getting sloppier with each shot, but she refuses to back down. 

“Maybe you should play your way. You suck doing it like this.”

“You're right. How about we call it quits after this round?” 

“Deal.” Lexa bounces the quarter, and it clings off the back of the glass but manages to fall inside. 

Clarke throws back the shot and slams the glass back on the table. She picks up the quarter and closes one eye for better aim. It doesn't do any good, though. The coin still bounces off the glass and into the wall beside the booth.

Lexa laughs and reaches for it, but Clarke stops her before she can. “Wait. I want a do over, but if I make it, you have to promise me something.”

“Yeah, yeah. You make this, and I'll promise you anything you want.” She has no fear that Clarke will actually sink a shot. She's drunk and terrible at the game.

Once again Clarke closes an eye to have better aim, and she takes a deep breath before dropping the quarter onto the table. They both watch in amazement as it lands neatly in the center of the glass.

“Holy shit! It worked!” Clarke exclaims and throws her hands up in victory.

“Were you hustling me this whole time?” Lexa sits there in disbelief. 

“No, I really am terrible. That was just luck. I swear.”

“Right.” Lexa doesn't believe her, not that Clarke can blame her. “What do you want then?”

“I want to be your partner.” She picks up the quarter and puts it in her purse. It's hers now, she earned it.

“Look, I think you're really attractive, and I won't deny that there is a spark there, but I'm not really looking for a relationship, and we barely know each other.”

This confuses Clarke. She has no idea what Lexa is talking about, but it does excite her that Lexa admitted to being attracted to her. Then it dawns on her, and she can't help but laugh. “No, Lexa. I'm not asking to be your life partner.”

That's when it dawns on Lexa too, and she shakes her head furiously. “No. Anything else but that. I'm new to all of this. I don't need someone even newer helping me out. I can't be worried about you when I'm busy worrying about myself.”

“You promised, and I don't want anything else. I can patch you up and help you research. I can even be your get away driver in case you end up with another knife in the gut.”

Lexa thinks about it. Actually thinks about it. Maybe a teammate wouldn't be a bad thing, and Clarke would be useful. She's sure she would be dead without her, and if involving her meant no more pleas to stop, then it would be an even better deal. She gets enough of that from Gustus.

“Fine, but your involvement is strictly of the medical and research kind. It would still be good if you could fight. Jake must have spent time teaching you, though.”

“No, I'm worse at fighting than I am at drinking games.”

Lexa groans and gathers the bottle and glasses from the table and puts them back behind the bar. Clarke follows behind her and stumbles into one of the other tables on her way.

“You're not exactly making me feel confident in my decision, Clarke.” Lexa pulls out her keys from behind the register and begins switching off the lights.

“You're a trained boxer and you still got stabbed.”

“Sometimes brute strength wins out over training, but I was able to make it out of there alive. Even if there's never any chance you have to go through something like that, I'm still teaching you the basics.” She puts her hand on the small of Clarke's back and leads her to the exit. Even with the help, she still manages to run into another table.

“Ok, Yoda. You can teach me.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

“So...” Clarke starts as they stand in front of her door. She likes that Lexa seems to have made this a habit. An overprotective dad is one thing, but a girl she's interested in making sure she gets home safely is quite another. “If I invite you in, will you turn me down again?”

“Yes.” There is no hesitation from Lexa.

Clarke sighs. She has no idea what it will take to get her to come in. She briefly considers stabbing her because a near fatal injury did the trick last time, but she shakes the thought from her head. “Will you at least reconsider the fight?”

“No. My stitches will be ready to come out in a few days. They'll never even know I was hurt.”

Clarke places her hand over Lexa's injured side, but before she can apply any kind of pressure, Lexa grabs her by the wrist and pulls her hand away. Turned on, Clarke leans in and presses her lips to Lexa's. There is no warning, but the kiss starts off soft and tentative enough to give Lexa time to react. It quickly turns into something else when she doesn't push her away. Clarke likes the way Lexa's full lips feel against her own, but she doesn't want soft. She wants more. Lexa understands, and Clarke moans when she feels Lexa run her tongue across her lip. She throws her arms around Lexa's neck and closes her lips over the tip of her tongue to lightly suck on it. This gains her own moan from Lexa, but the moment is ruined when a tenant down the hall slams his door shut. 

Lexa pulls away so quickly that Clarke isn't sure if they were just kissing or if it was part of a drunken daydream.

“I can't do this. You're drunk.” Lexa backs further away from Clarke and stuffs her hands in her pockets as if she doesn't trust that she can keep them to herself.

“I don't care.” She finds her keys at the bottom of her purse and unlocks her door before Lexa has a chance to retreat further. Hooking her finger through one of the belt loops on Lexa's jeans, she pulls her inside the apartment.

She drops her purse to the ground, and Lexa just has enough time to shut the door and lock it before Clarke drags her through the living room and into the bedroom. Clarke flips the switch and lights the room before pushing Lexa onto the bed and straddling her lap. She cups Lexa's face and begins kissing her again. The feel of Lexa underneath her, the way her hair smell, and the way her lips taste are intoxicating, but the little nips at her own lips and the way she slowly rolls her tongue over Clarke's are unlike anything she's ever experienced.

Lexa gets carried away and tries to flip Clarke over into the mattress. She pulls away from the kiss and grabs her side in pain.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes,” Lexa responds and leans back into her.

Clarke smiles and puts her hand on the woman's chest to stop her. “Just sit here and relax.”

She climbs off of Lexa's lap and stands in front of her. She pulls the zipper on the side of her dress down and lets the garment fall to the ground. Lexa sits on the bed and runs her eyes down the length of Clarke's half naked body. Even in her inebriated state, Clarke decides she likes the way Lexa looks at her. She likes the way it makes her feel.

Lexa finishes trailing her eyes over Clarke's body, and pulls her back onto her lap. It's different this time, though. There is a tenseness and apprehension that wasn't there before. Wanting Lexa to give in to her lust, Clarke grabs her hand and places it on her breast.

“You're allowed to touch me,” she whispers as she leans close and captures her lips for another kiss. She keeps her hand over Lexa's until she feels the slightest squeeze. Clarke smiles into the kiss and moves her hand to the back of Lexa's head to pull her closer. She plays with strands of her hair before snaking her arm around the woman's neck.

Lexa's confidence returns, and she bites down on Clarke's lip with just enough pressure. She circles her thumb around Clarke's nipple, and Clarke can feel it stiffen under her bra. She whimpers into Lexa's mouth, enjoying how the material feels against her erect nipples. Unable to control her hips, she begins slowly grinding into Lexa.

“Take this off,” Clarke says when she pulls away from the kiss to catch her breath. She tugs at Lexa's shirt, careful to not touch her injured side. She wants to remove Lexa's jeans too, but impatience gets the best of the other woman. Ignoring the pain, Lexa picks Clarke up just enough so that she can drop her down into the bed.

“Lexa, your side,” Clarke warns, but Lexa is kissing her again before it can do any good. If she's in any pain, she hides it well. She trails her hand down Clarke's chest to her stomach and stops just above the band of her panties.

Clarke lifts her hips to let her know going further is ok. Lexa gives her a sweet smile and captures her lips again before she starts rubbing circles over Clarke's panties. The friction feels amazing, but she needs to feel Lexa's touch without any barrier, so she reaches down and stills Lexa's hand. Lexa pulls away from the kiss with confusion on her face. She looks down at Clarke's hand on her own, and then watches as Clarke pulls her panties to the side and spreads her legs further apart. It might not be much, but it is the sexiest thing Lexa has ever seen.

Lexa wastes no time and rubs the same soft circles over Clarke, this time directly over her most sensitive area. Clarke pulls on Lexa's neck to bring her closer. “Quit teasing me,” she whispers between kisses.

Then she feels two fingers slide inside her, and she gasps. Lexa shifts and puts a leg between Clarke's to give herself better leverage. She keeps the palm of her hand pressed into Clarke, and it doesn't take long for her to meet each of Lexa's thrusts with her hips.

She can feel an orgasm building, and she knows she's about to lose control. She doesn't want that, though. She wants this feeling to last as long as possible.

Lexa trails kisses along Clarke's cheek over to her ear and nibbles on the lobe. “You feel good,” she whispers, and the feel of Lexa's breath tickling her ear as she continues to thrust proves to be too much and sends her over the edge. She rides the orgasm out, jerking on Lexa's hand and clawing at her back. 

Falling back onto the bed, she brushes her hair out of her face and smiles at Lexa. “Wow,” she says as a way to break the silence. The way Lexa looks at her makes Clarke think she had been lying about not looking for a relationship. Lexa tries to pull her fingers out of Clarke's opening, but Clarke grabs her wrist to keep her there. “No, I like how you feel inside me.”

She keeps her hand wrapped around Lexa's wrist and begins to gyrate her hips. Lexa watches as Clarke takes control, and Clarke watches Lexa through heavy lids. She feels more exposed than ever, but the lust in Lexa's eyes is such a turn on.

Lexa once again tries to pull her hand away when they hear Clarke's phone ringing from the other room, but Clarke won't let go. Then her home phone starts ringing, and she groans when the answering machine picks up. Lexa gives her a questioning look, like 'who even has a answering machine anymore?', but Clarke tries to ignore Octavia's voice filling the apartment and keeps circling her hips over Lexa's hand. 

She's so close again, but Octavia is making it hard for her to concentrate. “Clarke, are you home? I wanted to check on you but you didn't pick up your cell.” 

The call disconnects, and Clarke works her hips faster and harder. If she knows Octavia as well as she think she does, then she will be calling back soon. 

The phone rings again and Octavia leaves another message. “Oh, god, I just realized that maybe you took that sexy bartender home, and I'm probably interrupting. And she can probably hear all of this. Bye.”

Clarke groans again, but it quickly turns into a moan as Lexa presses her thumb into her clit. That's all she needs to feel another orgasm wash over her. She bucks against Lexa's hand as she once again rides out her orgasm. When her breathing is under control, she finally pulls Lexa's hand from between her legs and guides it up between them.

If this had been with anyone else, Clarke might be embarrassed by the wetness that coats the other woman's hand. Instead, she presses Lexa's fingers to her lips and watches as Lexa sucks on them. It's the least she can do to try and make up for Octavia's calls, and it is incredibly sexy watching Lexa suck the wetness from her fingers. 

Clarke pulls on her hand. As sexy as she thinks it is, the need to kiss the woman again takes over. She can taste herself on Lexa's lips, and it spurs her on. She tries to roll on top of Lexa, but she puts a hand on Clarke's shoulder to stop her.

“I have to go.”

Clarke leans her forehead against Lexa's before placing another soft kiss on her lips. “No you don't.”

Lexa sits up, and Clarke takes the opportunity to pull her panties back into place. “Yes I do. My Uncle will be waiting up for me again, and he's already on my ass about the other night.”

Clarke knows she has lost when Lexa pulls her shirt over her head. Before leaving, Lexa leans back down and gives her another kiss. “Lock the door behind me, ok?”

Clarke nods and follows her to the door. “When can I see you again?” she asks as she holds it open for Lexa.

“You want to be partners. I imagine you'll be seeing me all the time.”

Clarke doesn't have a chance to respond before Lexa is out the door and jogging down the stairs. She closes the door and leans into it with a smile on her face. This partnership has more benefits to it than she originally thought.

She can't wait.


	4. Training Day

Octavia bursts through the door of their favorite lunch spot, Paradise Cafe, and drops a stack of files on the table Clarke sits at. 

“Sorry I'm late. All these lawyers want me to do is file and pick out information for them, even through my lunch hour. I'm ready for this case to be over.”

Clarke laughs and hands over a menu. “It's ok. I haven't been here long. Will you get in trouble for bringing those here?” she asks as she points to the files in front of Octavia.

“They don't pay me enough to care about that. Dante Wallace is up for parole, and everyone at my firm has lost their minds.” She flips through the menu and flags down a waitress as she passes by. “Caprese salad and a peach tea, please.”

“I'll have the same,” Clarke tells the young woman taking their order. She leaves to get their drinks, and Clarke picks up one of the files. “Dante Wallace, the mob boss?” Also the man in the picture with her dad.

“Yep, his parole hearing is next week. Only one of his lawyers is allowed to be present, so I don't know why everyone else is so focused on this. I'm pretty sure he's paid everyone off anyway. There's no way he doesn't get out. Even his son is gearing up for his release. Wallace Inc. has been buying up plenty of real estate in recent months.”

Clarke remembers that her apartment complex went through a management change almost a year ago. Wallace Inc owns the property now, a fact that doesn't sit well with her now that she knows Dante is about to be a free man. Real estate, drugs, and who knows what else. It's like the man never served any time at all. 

“Anyway. Enough about my terrible job and the scum we represent. It's been over a week, and I still don't know what you got up to after Lincoln and I left Molly's.” She folds her arms across her chest and wiggles her eyebrows at her friend.

“You already know what I was up to. You nearly ruined it for me,” Clarke says and lowers her voice as the waitress sets down their drinks. She unwraps a straw and pushes it into the glass before taking a sip of the sweet beverage.

A smile forms on Octavia's lips. “I knew it! The way you looked at her. The way she looked at you! It was only a matter of time. You really should cool it with your dad's boxers, though. Even the ugly ones will think they have a shot if you keep making your way through his roster.”

That makes Clarke angry. She's not sure what Lexa is to her, but she knows she isn't some notch on a bedpost. And neither is Finn for that matter. They're over, there's no denying that, but she doesn't want to write him off as some guy from her dad's gym she was having sex with. She has no problem writing him off as a mistake, though, and she certainly has no intention of sleeping with any of the other fighters from Red Room Gym. 

But that's not all Clarke is angry about. She's angry because she hasn't seen or heard from Lexa since that night. She's been missing from both the gym and the bar, and Clarke is beginning to worry that she's being ignored. 

“I'm not going to fuck my way through the gym, Octavia,” Clarke says a little too loudly and gains herself a glare from the little old lady sitting at the next table. “I actually really like Lexa, but I haven't heard from her since then. God, I had sex with her and I hardly know her. I don't even know her last name.”

Octavia laughs and empties a sugar packet into her tea, and Clarke scrunches up her face in disgust. She has never been able to understand how Octavia can drink tea that way. “I didn't know Lincoln's last name the first time we hooked up, and look at us now. We're practically married.”

The bell above the door chimes, and Clarke sees Jackson walk in. She returns his wave as he walks across the restaurant to their table. “Hey, Clarke, how's it going?” 

“Hey, Jackson. This is Octavia.” 

Jackson gives Octavia a friendly smile that she returns, but he quickly turns his attention back to Clarke. “How are rounds going?”

Octavia grins around her straw as she sips her tea, and Clarke does her best to ignore her. “Good. Everything's good now.”

“Do you want to join us?” Octavia asks and earns herself a kick under the table. “Ow,” she gasps and grabs her leg. 

Jackson leans over to get a better look, but Clarke's foot is back on her side of the table before he can see anything. “Are you ok?”

“She's fine,” Clarke answers for her while Octavia continues to rub her sore shin.

“Ok, well I'd love to join you but my schedule is packed today. I'm just picking up a to-go order.”

“That's too bad, Jackson. I'd love to get to know you better. Clarke has had nothing but good things to say about you.” She scoots her chair back a few inches before Clarke has the opportunity to deliver another kick. The look on her face says she'll get payback later, though.

Jackson beams brightly, and Clarke hates that Octavia has given him even more hope. “I'll see you later, ok?”

Jackson nods, and his silly grin never leaves his face as he turns to walk to the counter to pick up his food. 

“What the fuck, Octavia,” Clarke hisses, making sure no one else can overhear her.

“I bet he wouldn't ignore you after sex. I'm just getting things started for you.”

The waitress comes through the kitchen door carrying the two salads and places the plates in front of the women. Clarke is happy for the distraction and shoves a tomato in her mouth to keep her from saying something she might regret.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Lexa sits in her car across the street from Bay Harbor Butcher Shop. She hasn't been able to raid anymore drug labs, but she has been able to pinpoint two others for later. It's because of one of those labs that Lexa finds herself parked outside this shop. It's all thanks to one of the cars advertising the Bay Harbor Butcher Shop with a bumper sticker. She's remembers the stick figure family on the back window and hopes the owner is just trying to blend in. She hopes there isn't a family relying on drug money. The bumper sticker could have been a false lead, she knows, but the white van parked in front is the same from her last raid. 

The man that stabbed her is here. So much of her wants to get out of the car and beat the hell out of him for what he did to her, but then she remembers his size advantage and that she doesn't have the cover of darkness right now. 

Instead, she pulls out her map from her backpack and circles the location with her red pen. This is the place she's been looking for the entire time. This is the home base, she knows it. She folds the map back up and slides it back into her bag before climbing out of her car. She slams the door shut and crosses the street over to the shop to get a better feel for it.

A tiny bell above it rings signaling her entrance, and the smell hits her right away as she walks through the door. Pork, chicken, beef, and lamb all mix together in a not entirely sickening way. It doesn't smell good, but it's better than she expects.

She can hear the grinding saws and vacuum sealers running in the back room, and there is a line of people at the meat counter waiting to give or pick up their order. The front of the shop is small, the counter taking up most of the room, and it only barely fits the five other customers comfortably. This isn't the section that interests Lexa, though. She looks past the man behind the counter, a man that disappointingly still has both of his eyes, to the swinging back door. She's only able to catch glimpses as another large man, also with both of his eyes intact, brings out the first order, but she can tell the back room is much larger. There's no doubt in her mind that this shop is a front. The smells, the sounds, the size, all of it is perfect to hide a drug business, and no one would ever suspect a seemingly mom and pop store. 

Lexa smiles to herself knowing that she scored a big one by finding this place, but she doesn't want to draw any unwanted attention to herself. She waits in line like the rest of the customers and places her order for three pounds of jalapeno and cheese summer sausage. She hates funding their business, but she needs a cover just as much as they do, and she knows Gustus will appreciate her bringing something home.

The man behind the counter wraps and bags her purchase. Knowing that she'll be seeing him again, she gives him a genuine smile and walks out the door.  
~~~~~~~~~~

After finishing lunch and getting some much needed study time in, Clarke decides to try the Red Room Gym again. She's been everyday since that night with Lexa, but she hasn't had any luck yet. This time, though, Lexa is the first person she sees. She's in front of a mirror doing curls with a pair of dumbbells, and Clarke's eyes lock with hers in the reflection. She has just enough time to set the dumbbells back down on the rack before Clarke drags her to the women's dressing room. 

The door slams shut behind them, and Clarke locks it to keep anyone else from coming in. Lexa gives her a look of pleading, but it does no good.

“Why have you been ignoring me? You can't even bother with a call or a text?” she questions.

“I don't have your number,” Lexa responds matter-of-factly, but it's the worst possible thing for her to say.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you don't have my number, but you do know where I live, and you do know what bars and gyms I frequent, so again, why have you been ignoring me?”

“Clarke,” Lexa begins before she's cut off by more ranting.

“Were you not into it? I've never been so forward before, especially when I don't even know someone's full name. And I did that thing with the panties and your fingers. Oh, God. You weren't into it. ” Clarke sits on the bench in front of a row of lockers and hangs her head in shame.

“It's Lexa Cavanaugh, and I liked the thing with the panties and my fingers.” Lexa sits next to Clarke but makes sure to give her enough space.

Clarke picks her head up and studies the other woman. “Then why are you ignoring me?”

“I just needed some time. I think if we're gonna be working together, we can't also be together. You know?”

Clarke shakes her head and stands. She needs more space than Lexa has given her. “No, I don't know. Why would it matter if we work together?”

“Because it would be a distraction for me. Give me your phone.” She wants to change the subject for the sake of Clarke's feelings. This conversation obviously upsets her.

Clarke does as she's told, and Lexa creates a contact profile for herself and includes her number and address. She hands it back over,and Clarke accidentally brushes her fingers over hers. They both pull away quickly and try to pretend neither felt the butterflies in their stomach at the contact. 

“Text me so I can put your info in my phone too. You can come over tonight, if you want. We can start your training.”

“Are you sure it won't be a distraction?” Clarke is bitter, but she really is trying to understand why Lexa wants boundaries. It isn't easy, though.

“Or don't. I don't care. You wanted to be involved, so if that's still true then you can come over. If not, I'll manage.”

Lexa is about to walk out of the door when Clarke grabs her by the arm and stops her. Lexa looks down at Clarke's hand on her arm, and she can't deny she's still attracted to the woman. Each touch makes it harder to maintain her resolve, and she finds herself leaning closer to Clarke when shouting from the gym pulls her back.

Clarke and Lexa look at each other, confusion on both of their faces. They exit the dressing room in a hurry and find a crowd around one of the rings. Bellamy stands over Murphy laying on the mat. The downed man holds his nose, and blood covers his face.

Jake jumps into the ring and pulls Bellamy away. “What is going on?” 

“Fuck that guy. He had it coming. Saying I should throw my next fight to make money. That might be how Finn made it out of Southie, but I have more integrity than that.” Bellamy pushes against Jake's hands on his chest trying to get around him and back to Murphy.

Murphy slides to the edge of the ring and rolls under the bottom rope. He falls to his feet and leans against the ring. Clarke rushes to him and moves his hand away from his nose. 

“It's broken. You need to go to the hospital to have an actual doctor look at it.”

“I'll take him,” Lexa says from behind them. “Lets go, dumbass.” She walks around Clarke and tugs at the man's arm. He stumbles forward, no doubt embellishing how much pain he's in. Lexa pushes at his back to get him to move faster before turning back to Clarke. “So will I see you tonight?”

Clarke looks over her shoulder at her dad standing in the ring. The look on his face is proof enough that he doesn't want her to go, and if he knew everything about their situation, he would be even more angry. She doesn't care, though. It might not be exactly how she thought it was going to be, but this is something she wants. She faces Lexa again with a smile on her face and nods. 

Lexa returns the smile and catches up to Murphy who is nearly out the door. She gives him another push in the back, and they are gone.

Clarke turns back to the ring to see her dad with his arms crossed over his chest. He shakes his head in disappointment and climbs out of the ring. As he passes by his daughter, he pauses beside her and says, “When this ends badly, and it will, don't say I didn't warn you.”

He continues past her, not waiting for a response, to his office and closes the door behind him. Bellamy drops to the floor in front of her and examines his right hand. Clarke steps forward and takes his hand in hers. She runs her fingers over his, checking to see if anything is broken. “You're not used to punching someone without a glove?”

“I've punched plenty of people without a glove. Doesn't make it hurt less.”

“You'll live,” she says and drops his hand.

“You're really interested in her?” 'Her' comes out with a hint of venom. 

“It's not anyone's business who I'm interested in, especially not yours.” She's harsh, but she's sick of everyone writing Lexa off. She may not know the woman very well yet, but she knows her better than either her father or Bellamy. “Leave it alone. You seem like a nice enough guy, but I don't have to be friends with you.”

He smirks and holds his hands up in surrender. “You got it, Princess.”

“And don't call me that either. I hate it.”

“You got it, Griff.” He bumps her shoulder lightly as he walks past, chuckling to himself.

“You're an ass, Bellamy!” She yells at his retreating back, but she does enjoy the banter.

He turns and walks the rest of the way to the dressing room backwards, a smile on his lips. “You and me, Griff. We're gonna be best buds.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

Clarke stares at her phone and rereads Lexa's text for what seems like the hundredth time. 'See you then,' it says in response to Clarke asking if 7:00 is a good time to come over. Sitting in her car outside of Lexa's building, she smiles to herself. Sure, the high school crush should be embarrassing, but she can't deny that the giddiness and butterflies feel good. Their conversation from earlier still plays in her head, and she's not happy that portion of their relationship has stalled, but it does nothing to stop the attraction and intrigue she feels towards the other woman.

She puts her phone in her pocket and climbs out of the car. She's a little bit early, and she hopes Lexa doesn't mind, but she's tired of waiting in the car. 

Lexa's address in her phone lists 504 as her apartment number, and Clarke has no issue finding it. She gathers her courage and smooths out her shirt so that the material hugs her curves better before knocking on the door. She can hear a Dropkick Murphy's song playing from the other side of the door, so she knocks louder. The music cuts off, and seconds later, the door opens to reveal Lexa.

Her hair isn't braided like it had been at the gym but up in a ponytail, and she's wearing a loose fitting white v-neck t-shirt and a pair of Nike running shorts. Clarke decides this is her favorite of all of the Lexa 'looks'. Sure, the tank tops and tight jeans are nice and accentuate certain body parts high on Clarke's favorite things about Lexa list, but the v-neck dips down lower over her chest, displaying more cleavage, and the shorts cement the fact that Lexa has great legs. The shorts she trains in at the gym are baggier, not that Clarke can blame her. The way the men leer at her makes Clarke want to put on a parka before stepping into the building. She can only imagine what Lexa has to deal with on a daily basis.

“Hey,” Lexa greets and holds the door open for Clarke to come inside. She takes in her surroundings. The furniture is worn and the carpet is faded. Pictures cover the refrigerator and cereal boxes sit on top of it. She wonders if the Captain Crunch is Lexa's or if she's more of a Trix kind of girl. There is a large stereo system in the corner of the living room, and while the equipment is impressive, it's just as old as the furniture in the room. The TV on the wall across from the couch is the most modern thing she can see, but she can't help but think it's out of place with everything else.

The apartment is the exact opposite of Clarke's in every way, but she loves it. This seems like a home, like memories have been made here. Her place is cold and impersonal. 

“I like your place,” she says as she walks further into the living room. She takes a seat on the couch and sinks down into the cushion, and she wonders how many other girls Lexa has brought here. 

“Thanks. I ordered Chinese if you want some.” Lexa closes the door and walks into the kitchen to unload takeout boxes.

“I don't like Chinese food.” That's a lie, but the thought of other girls being here and the conversation from earlier sours her mood.

“I wasn't sure, so I stopped by Molly's and got you some of the nachos you like.” 

And just like that the sour mood is gone. It makes her happy that Lexa pays enough attention to the things she likes. There's no doubt she sees hundreds of different people each week at the bar, so it has to mean something that she would remember something so small. 

Clarke joins her in the kitchen, and Lexa hands her the plate of Irish nachos and grabs a fork out of a drawer for her own food. They sit at the small card table that serves as the dining room table, and Clarke digs in. 

“Dante Wallace is up for parole,” she says through a mouthful of food. It's rude and completely unattractive, but if Lexa doesn't want something more with her, then little things like talking with her mouth full don't bother Clarke. She does at least hold her hand in front of her mouth to be somewhat proper.

“I know. I read it in the paper. It's all they can talk about. It can't be a coincidence that crime is picking back up.” She twirls her fork in her takeout box and pulls out a forkful of lo mein. Clarke watches her eat and the way her lips move as she chews the noodles. She remembers the way they moved over her own as they kissed, and she's thankful that she wasn't drunk enough to forget that night with Lexa.

She shoves another cheesy slice of potato into her mouth to take her mind off of those thoughts.

“And Wallace Inc. has been busy buying up property. This isn't just drugs we're talking about. We might be in over our heads with this, but it's not too late to back away.” She swallows her food before speaking this time.

“I can't. I started this fight, so I'm going to finish it. You can walk away if you want. It would probably be best if you did.”

Clarke shakes her head. “No. If you're gonna stick with it, then so am I.”

They spend the rest of the time eating in silence. Lexa finishes her lo mein first and throws the box in the trash. She puts the other containers in the fridge with the sausage she bought earlier. She gathers a few pieces of equipment she thinks she'll need while Clarke finishes off her nachos. Lexa takes the plate from her and places it in the sink to wash later. 

“You ready?” Lexa asks and throws the strap of the bag holding her equipment over her shoulder.

Clarke nods and Lexa leads her to the roof of her building.  
~~~~~~~~~~

“Throwing a punch is the most basic form of fighting, but sometimes it's the most important. You need to have at least two go to punches. Mine are the jab and cross. The hook is good, but I don't think it offers as much defense. I don't waste my time with uppercuts, so it's not something I'll be teaching you.”

Lexa drops her bag to the rooftop and pulls out two sparring pads, puts them over her hands, and holds them out to Clarke. “Punch these.”

Clarke balls her hands into fists and moves her feet shoulder width apart before connecting with the pads, first with her right and then with her left. There is no power at all from either punch, and Lexa stares at her, dumbfounded.

“You weren't lying about being terrible.” Lexa wants to laugh, but she doesn't want to hurt Clarke's feelings. She shakes off the pads and takes Clarke's right wrist in her hand. “Make another fist.”

Clarke does so, and Lexa shakes her head when she sees her cover her thumb with her fingers. “You're gonna break your thumb like that. Your dad was one of the best boxers in Boston, he couldn't at least get that to stick?”

Clarke smiles and shakes her head. “I took after my mom, I guess.”

Lexa pulls Clarke's thumb out from under her fingers and curls it over her first two fingers. She lets go of her wrist and holds her hands up. “Punch again.”

“Don't you need those pads?”

“You don't have enough power for me to need those.”

That offends Clarke, so she connects with Lexa's hands as hard as she can. She doesn't want to hurt the woman, but she does want to show her that she does have power. Lexa doesn't budge, grimace, or give any other sign that she even felt the two punches.

“Then how do I make them more powerful?” Clarke grumbles.

Lexa picks up the pads and tosses them to Clarke. “Put those on, and I'll show you.” She waits for Clarke to slide them over her hands and gets into her stance. She turns her body, holds her hands up in front of her face, tucks her elbows in, and lifts her back heel. When Clarke is ready with the pads up, Lexa snaps her left hand out twice and lands two quick jabs before rotating her hips and shoulders and connecting with a powerful straight right. Clarke stumbles backwards a couple of steps. “Jab and cross,” she says as she lowers her hands and steps out of her stance.

“Ok, yeah, teach me that.” 

Lexa laughs and helps Clarke with her stance. She positions her hips and legs correctly and then brings her fists up to the front of her face. Clarke enjoys the contact, but tries to maintain focus on the task at hand. She loses count, but she thinks she probably throws a hundred left jabs. Her shoulders and arms are sore, and she wants to practice the cross, but Lexa is adamant that she learns how to effectively land a jab first.

They take a break, and Lexa hands her a bottle of water from her bag. “When do I learn how to do a cross?”

“You don't know how to do a jab yet. I want it to be so engrained in you that it's second nature. When you don't have anything else, the jab is your best weapon.”

“Bellamy doesn't use jabs.” Clarke remembers his fight and how he almost exclusively used uppercuts and hooks.

“That's because Bellamy relies on strength instead of technique. He overpowers his opponents, but one day he's going to go up against a competent fighter, and he's gonna get his ass knocked out. Jabs are the best form of defense and the starting point for any good offense. You don't like the way I teach, by all means, have him give you lessons, but you'll get your ass kicked.”

“No, I want to keep practicing with you.” They continue to sip at their water, Clarke thankful for the opportunity to rest her sore muscles. She finally works up enough courage to ask Lexa the question that's been bothering her since she found out her extracurricular activities. “How did you get involved in all of this?”

“My dad went to prison because of the mob. He joined at an early age, collecting money from businesses under their protection from fabricated threats. It brought in extra money for his parents. Then he met my mom, they had me, a few years later they had my little sister, Tris, and then my mom ran off. He'd always wanted out, but it wasn't until Tris was born that he was able to severe ties. He started with anonymous tips, and when that didn't work, he blew up a warehouse.” 

This sounds familiar to Clarke. She remembers hearing something about that when she was younger, but her parents had never answered any questions she had about it.

“It was only supposed to send a message, and the warehouse was supposed to be empty. It was going to be the future site of their weapons manufacturing, trading, and selling, but two lower level members of the mob were caught in the blast and killed. He got a lifetime sentence for it. The only good that came from it was the public attention brought onto Dante Wallace. They got him for tax evasion and a couple counts of battery. The same bullshit reason they catch all the major criminals.”

Lexa didn't intend to reveal so much about herself, but something about Clarke is comforting, so she doesn't stop until it's all out in the open. People are generally aware of her father and the crimes he's committed, and they're always quick to give her unwanted sympathy. It never crosses any of their minds that she might be capable of the same actions.

“Do you think he knew my dad?” It isn't the question Lexa expects, but she can't blame Clarke for wondering.

“Hopefully your dad was just a boxer that happened to box at their gym. Gustus knows him, but I don't know how.”

She twists the cap back onto her water bottle and sets it down next to her bag. She stands and pulls Clarke to her feet, who groans when she she realizes that the break is over.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Most of the lights are off. Bellamy finds he's able to focus more in the dark, and he needs all the extra time in the gym he can get before his big fight. He stops punching the bag when a strange man walks through the door.

The man has a patch over one of his eyes and he's carrying a bundle wrapped in paper. By the smell of it, it's meat. “Hey, buddy, we're closed. You gotta be on the roster to be in here at this time of night.”

The man looks over at Bellamy and tips his hat towards him.”Don't worry, son. I'm an old friend.”

He strides to Jake's office and opens the door without knocking. Jake looks up from his paperwork and pushes his chair back in shock. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I had a little accident. I brought you a gift.” He tosses the package onto the desk. “Hanger. The boss remembered it's your favorite cut of steak.”

“The boss?” Jake picks up strips of meat for fear it will stain the paper underneath, but they are perfectly wrapped.

“Yeah. We're gonna need you to start paying up those percentages from the fights.”

“No, we had a deal. I'm done with all of that. This is my gym to run how I see fit.”

The man laughs, places his palms on Jake's desk, and leans over. “That agreement is now null and void. You've got until the end of the week to make your first payment.” He stands back up, but pauses before walking out of the door. “And that fight with Lexa and Echo? Cancelled. We can't have two of our own going up against each other. It hurts profits.”

“Lexa isn't one of yours. She's not involved in any of this.”

The man just smiles in response and exits the room. 

Bellamy waits outside the office, and the man pats him on the shoulder. “Good luck at your next fight, kid. It should bring the gym a lot of money.”

Bellamy watches him go before sticking his head into Jake's office. He notices the man is just staring at the package in his hands.

“Everything ok?” he asks, breaking the man's concentration.

Jake drops the meat into the trashcan next to his desk and ties off the bag. “Yeah, don't worry about it. Go home and get some rest.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

“No more, Lexa. I can hardly feel my arm,” Clarke complains as she tries to massage feeling back into her arm.

“Ok. We'll go again tomorrow, and when you have that down, we'll start with your right.” 

Clarke groans and chugs down the rest of her water. She sees Lexa pull up short and grab her side when she bends down to pick up her bag. Clarke closes the distance between them and lifts Lexa's shirt. There's no hesitation on her part. She doesn't see the point after already having had sex with the woman.

“Your stitches are ready to come out. You shouldn't feel as much pain once I remove them.” She lets her hand linger at Lexa's side and runs her thumb across the area around the stitched wound. It surprises her that Lexa lets her do this, but it makes it clear she enjoys the contact just as much.

The door to the roof opens, and Clarke moves away. Lexa's shirt falls back into place just as other tenants stream out of the stairwell. Some carry ice chests full of beer while others carry various food items. Tris and Gustus are part of the crowd, and Lexa sees that her uncle is carrying the sausage. 

“They do this once a week. You're welcome to stay if you want.” 

Clarke looks down at her sweat covered shirt, and she's sure her hair is a mess. “I look like shit.”

“No you don't,” Lexa responds softly, and Clarke smiles at that.

Gustus and Tris make their way to the two women, and Lexa introduces them to Clarke. “Clarke, this is my uncle, Gustus, and my sister, Tris.”

Gustus extends his free hand and shakes Clarke's. “Nice to meet you.” He says it to be polite, but both Clarke and Lexa notice the iciness in his tone. Tris just offers a shy smile before running off to join the other younger kids playing a board game at one of the tables set up on the roof.

“I should get these on the grill. Will you be joining us, Clarke?”

She looks over at Lexa and sees the hopeful look on her face. “Yeah. I'll stay.” 

Gustus only nods and walks off to the grill to help cook all of the food. Lexa hurries to one of the ice chests and brings back two bottles of Miller Lites. Clarke shakes her head when Lexa offers her one.

“I think I should stick with water. I am in serious training, you know. I think I might drink too much anyway.”

Lexa laughs and pops the tops off both bottles and holds one out to Clarke. “No you don't. I'm a bartender. I'm an expert in this.”

Clarke takes the bottle and takes a drink. Miller Lite is far from her favorite, but it is refreshing after the workout she just had. 

Gustus watches them from his spot by the grill. It's good to see his niece laugh and smile the way she is, but he knows this Clarke woman is the one that stitched her up. He wants Lexa to be happy, but he doesn't want it to be with someone that enables her destructive behavior. The sparring pads laying on top of one of Lexa's bags doesn't do anything to reassure him.

Lexa notices her uncle's watchful gaze and tries to ignore it. “I think I found the central location for the drug operation, but I need to make sure.”

Clarke doesn't respond. Instead she takes another drink from her bottle and lets that bit of information sink in.


	5. The Mistake

“Is this because of Clarke? We're just friends, Jake. You can't control everything she does.” Lexa is angry, and for good reason. This is the one fight she needs. It's the only one she wants.

“No, this isn't because of Clarke, but I do want you to stay away from her. Echo's camp cancelled the fight.” 

Lexa stands from her chair and does her best to pace the length of the small office.

“But why? I know there was short notice, but I figured they were okay with that. Why even agree to the fight if they weren't going to go through with it?”

Jake joins Lexa on the other side of his desk and places his hands on her shoulders to keep her still. “Maybe she got hurt. They didn't give any specifics when they called.”

“And you didn't think to ask? Why am I on your roster? And don't give me that bullshit answer about owing my uncle a favor. You never line any fights up for me. I've had two in the last year and a half.” She pulls away from him and storms off through the door.

“Wait,” he calls after her.

Lexa turns, not caring that the entire gym is watching them. “Fuck you, Jake. I'm done. I'll find another gym. And I'll tell Clarke you said hello when I see her tonight.”

In her haste to get out of the gym, she runs into Bellamy walking through the front door. He doesn't say anything as she pushes her way past him because he knows that it won't do any good. He catches a glimpse of Jake closing his office door behind him and knows that the man in the eyepatch is responsible for this.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Clarke sits in the hospital cafeteria jotting down notes on yet another appendicitis case. She's beginning to think appendicitis is the only medical affliction she'll ever cover in med school. She takes a sip from her coffee cup and sees Jackson making his way towards her table. Gathering up her belongings and leaving would be too obvious, and she doesn't have enough time to accomplish that before he's dropping a stack of folders in front of her.

“Look at this. Appendicitis, bronchitis, pneumonia, a concussion. When do we get to start observing the cool cases?”

Clarke laughs as he takes a seat. “I had an appendicitis case today too.”

“I'm ready for something other than lectures and routine procedures. I need a little excitement in my life.”

Clarke reads between the lines with that statement and thinks over everything again. Jackson really isn't so bad and he's clearly interested. She wants excitement too, and while she's not certain Jackson can provide that for her, she thinks that it might not be a bad idea to find out for sure. Things with Lexa seem to be nonexistent, so maybe branching out could be a good thing for her.

“I don't know how exciting it'll be, but I'm having a little get together at my apartment's pool tonight. You're welcome to come by if you want.”

His face brightens, and Clarke can't help but smile at the genuine excitement she sees in his eyes. “Yes, I would love to come.” He's almost too eager in his accepting of the invitation.

“Let me see your phone.” He hands it over without another word, and Clarke types in her phone number. She hands it back and gathers her papers and coffee. “Text me later, and I'll send you my address. You can show up whenever you want, but others will probably start coming around 7:00 or 8:00.”

Jackson stares at his phone like it's the first time a girl has ever given him her number, and Clarke begins to wonder if this is all a mistake. “Okay, I'll see you at 7:00,” he says excitedly, finally looking up from the screen.

Clarke gives him another soft smile before leaving and hopes she made the right choice as she walks out of the cafeteria.  
~~~~~~~~~~

To cheer herself up from the meeting at Red Room, Lexa decides to take her sister out to lunch. She picks her up from a friend's house, and they decide on Tony's Sub Shop, a place they've been frequenting for years. 

It's a hole in the wall restaurant in a mostly rundown part of town, which isn't unusual for South Boston, but it's the one place she can remember her dad loving. She makes sure to get his go-to every time she's in the area. A Philly cheesesteak with pickles, hots spread, and mustard. It's not a favorite of Tris's, but Lexa can't get enough. Lunch hour is always a busy time for Tony's, so the two are forced to sit outside, but the weather is nice and people watching can't be beat in this part of town.

“This is nice. We haven't done this in forever. I miss it.” Tris takes another bite of her tuna sandwich and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Lexa scoffs and taps the napkin dispenser in the middle of the table. 

“I miss it too. I've just been really busy lately, but I promise to start making more time for you.”

Tris grins over her sandwich and gives her sister a knowing look. She may be younger, but she's not dumb. “Busy with that girl, you mean?” She giggles when she sees the shocked look Lexa gives her. She bites off another chunk of sandwich before continuing. “I like her. She's nicer than the last girl you dated. Prettier too.”

Lexa can barely understand her through the food in her mouth, and she hopes this isn't how Tris behaves at school. Thinking that is a better subject to discuss than her dating life, she asks, “so, how is school going?”

Tris attends a fancy private school outside of South Boston. A fancy private school Lexa and her uncle pay too much for despite Tris being on scholarship. “It's okay, but I've been thinking that it might be neat to learn how to play an instrument. One girl in my class just got a really nice keyboard, and she won't stop bragging about it. I'd love to be able to get lessons and show her she's not that great.”

Lexa laughs at her sister's competitive nature. It's a trait they both possess. Just like their father.

“How much would something like that cost?” she asks and stuffs the last bite of her cheesesteak into her mouth.

“Oh, Lexa, I wasn't being serious. You and Gus already spend way too much for my school.”

“Don't worry about that, Tris. I wouldn't pay for it if I didn't want to.”

“But I feel bad that you can't spend money on yourself. You have that beat up Mustang, and you still live at home.” Tris puts her sandwich down and looks at her lap almost like she's ashamed of what Lexa has given up for her.

“Hey, I love that car, and the only reason I still live at home is because of the awesome stereo system Gus has.” She does love her car, but the rest is a lie. They both know she can't afford her own place, not while Tris is still in school.

Before Tris can say anything else, Lexa's phone vibrates across the table. Clarke's name pops up on the screen, and Tris grins again when she sees it. “Finish your sandwich, I'll be right back.”

“Hello?” she says into the phone while walking to the side of the building for more privacy.

“Hey.” It's said so softly that Lexa can barely hear it over the noise of the street, but she loves the way that single word sounds in her ear. She even lets herself think that tone is reserved for her only. “Hello?” 

Realizing that she hasn't answered yet and how ridiculous her thoughts are, she shakes the grin off of her face and responds. “Hey. I'm at lunch with my sister. Did you need something?” 

“Yeah. I wanted to see if you wanted to come over tonight. Nothing special, I'm just having a few friends over. I'd like it if you came. You can bring whoever you want.”

Lexa sighs and leans into the building. It's the last thing she should agree to, she knows. Things with Clarke never turn out as innocent as they should, but she wants to see the woman again. The night before on the roof is still fresh on her mind, and she wants more of that even if she knows it can't ever go anywhere.

“Okay.”

“Really?” Clarke asks in disbelief.

“Yeah. Sounds like fun. I'll be there.” 

“Awesome! But the real reason I called was to tell you about Mayor Jaha's press conference. I'll text you the link. I'll see you tonight, okay?”

“Yep. I'll see you tonight,” Lexa reassures the woman. 

“Bye, Lexa.” The soft tone is back, and so is Lexa's small smile.

The call disconnects, and true to her word, a text containing a link to the press conference comes through. Lexa clicks on it and is taken to WCVB's coverage of the Mayor. A video is included in the article, so Lexa clicks the play button and turns up the volume on her phone.

“This might seem a little out of the ordinary,” Mayor Jaha says into a crowd of mics, “but we have a high profile parole hearing next week, and I wanted to ease the minds of citizens of Boston, especially those in South Boston. Dante Wallace is a changed man. Time in prison has given him the opportunity to reflect on his past crimes and come to terms with what he's done. Turning to faith and finding God has played a large role in his new life, and he has vowed to make this one better than before. He wants to make amends for his actions, and I fully support his efforts. I'll take questions now.”

Lexa pauses the video, uninterested in the questions from reporters. She knows nothing of importance will be asked. The reporters in this town are just as useless as the cops. It doesn't surprise her that Dante has the mayor in his back pocket, but it does surprise her that Jaha would be so public about it. 

The time to strike Bay Harbor Butchery is now. There needs to be more crimes connected to Wallace. She's not buying this 'changed man' narrative the media and Mayor are pushing. None of it sits well with her, but at least she has the power to try and change it.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Clarke stops by the art gallery Lincoln works at on her way home. He's busy hanging pictures on the wall, but he smiles and sets the one he's holding back on the ground to greet her with a hug.

“I was coming by to invite you and Octavia over to my place tonight, but I completely forgot about the show,” she says as she pulls away from the hug. 

“I'd rather hang out your place. These shows are always so stressful.”

Clarke laughs and walks around the room to get a better look at the pictures on the walls. They are all black and white photographs focusing on shadows. None of the photos present a new take on the subject matter, but the one that catches her eye the most captures a group of people walking under a bridge. Their features are unidentifiable, but the light from the other side of the bridge casts long shadows out towards the city. She's not sure what it is about the picture, but it's the only one she feels any sort of connection to.

“Do me a favor, set this one aside for me if it doesn't sell tonight.”

“You got it. This would actually look awesome in your place. Liven the walls up a little.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know how you feel about my apartment. Tell Octavia I said hi, okay? We should plan a date for Molly's soon.” She gives the photograph one last look before turning to the door.

“I'm up for it. Nachos and quarters. Maybe Lexa can join us next time.” Lincoln smirks as he opens the door for her. 

“You two are the worst. I don't know why I'm friends with you.”

Lincoln laughs and gives her a little nudge out the door. “See you later, Clarke.”

Clarke waves and walks down the street to her car. She hopes she doesn't have a ticket for not paying the meter, but her thoughts mostly center on the picture in the gallery.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Music plays softly throughout the pool area. Clarke wants to turn the volume up, but she knows the old man in apartment 301 will file a complaint. She catches him peeking out of his blinds again and shakes her head. The music is loud enough to be enjoyable, though, as several of her friends surround the pool bopping their heads to the beat. 

She's in the hot tub letting the warm water and jets work through the knots in her back. Jackson sits next to her, their conversation from earlier giving him an extra bit of confidence as he sits closer to her than he probably would have before. 

Two of Clarke's other friends are also in the tub, so it's probably not as intimate as Jackson wants it, but it's a nice security blanket for Clarke. She may want to try dating someone other than Lexa, but she's not ready for much of anything else.

Jackson stretches and lets his arm fall behind Clarke on the pavement outside of the tub. It's a rookie move and something she hasn't experienced since high school, but the innocence is kind of cute in an annoying sort of way. She can't ever imagine Lexa trying it on her.

“So how about that offer of going to Ninth Inning one night? I still owe you a beer.” 

Clarke thinks about it. She already knows she's going to say yes, but she wants to think it through. What it will mean for her relationship with Lexa, she doesn't know. She doesn't even know if Lexa will care. Just being friends is her idea, it's not something Clarke wants, but she also doesn't want to upset the woman, not when she just started training with her. 

“Are you busy tomorrow?” 

“No, Sunday is about the only day I don't have anything going on, but we might need to make it a lunch date. I have an early lecture Monday morning.”

Clarke smiles, wishing she had his resolve. “A lunch date sounds nice.”

Jackson returns the smile, clearly happy with the progress they've made since the first time he asked her out, but Clarke's attention is drawn to Lexa entering the gate to the pool with two friends.

She's wearing a red summer dress with tank straps that show off her toned arms. The square neckline hides her cleavage, but the top hugs her chest so nicely that it doesn't matter. The dress is finished off with a short, flared skirt that frames her legs perfectly. The red of the dress really brings out the color of the roses on her arm, and Clarke is sure they've never looked as beautiful as they do now. Her hair hangs in messy curls over her other shoulder, and the minimal makeup she wears just accentuates how gorgeous she is.

Clarke forgets all about her favorite Lexa look from last night. This is her favorite. She's not sure if anything will ever top this. She's not sure she could handle it if anything ever does.

Jackson, all but forgotten next to her, just watches as she climbs out of the hot tub and grabs a towel off of one of the tables. She dabs herself dry as best as she can as Lexa and her friends make their way to her.

She tosses the damp towel back onto the table just as the trio reach her, and she offers a polite smile to the two men standing next to Lexa. 

“Hey, you made it,” she says with the same soft tone she has no idea Lexa loves.

“Hey. Clarke, this is Dax and Penn.” Lexa gestures to each man as she says their names, and Clarke shakes each of their hands. 

“Nice to meet you. I was beginning to think Lexa didn't have any friends,” Clarke jokes with them.

“She said there would be free beer and girls,” Dax says and earns himself a shove in the process.

Clarke can only laugh, happy that she's meeting more people in Lexa's life. “Well, make yourselves at home and enjoy the beer and girls.”

The two men nod in unison and spot a couple of women across the pool. They leave Clarke and Lexa to join them, but Clarke doesn't mind. As much as she wants to get to know Lexa's friends, she wants to spend time alone with her even more. She throws Jackson a quick glance over her shoulder before leading Lexa to an ice chest full of beer. She pulls out a can of Downeast Cider and hands it over to Lexa. 

“Wow, I'm impressed you remembered these. When did you have time to pick any up?” Lexa asks as she pops open the top of the can.

“I made a trip to the brewery not long after you recommended them. I still have a pack I need to give to Lincoln. He loved this stuff.”

Lexa just nods and looks around the pool at all the bikinis and swim trunks. “I didn't know this was a pool party. I went by your apartment first, but one of your neighbors said I would find you here.”

“Would you have come if you knew?”

“No.”

“Is that the reason you can't look at me?”

Lexa takes a drink from her can before answering. “I'm looking at you now.”

“Not all of me.” Lexa tries the best she can to ignore the bikini Clarke is wearing, but she's not sure how much longer she can hold out. “You don't trust yourself to look, do you?”

Lexa finally gives in and trails her eyes down Clarke's body. The baby blue bikini isn't as revealing as Lexa originally thought with the tiny glimpse she allowed herself when Clarke was getting out of the hot tub, but her breasts are still straining against the material, and tiny water droplets are running down her stomach to the elastic of her bikini bottoms. 

She takes Clarke's hand in her own and makes eye contact again. Clarke understands without words needing to be said, and she takes the can from Lexa's other hand and sets it on the table. She grabs her keys and phone from beside the chest and leads Lexa to her apartment.

Once inside, Lexa pushes her up against the door and locks it before groping Clarke's chest and leaning in to kiss her. The kiss starts off slow, and Clarke is still able to taste the cider Lexa had been drinking, but it quickly deepens as Lexa moves a leg in between Clarke's. 

Lexa pulls away from Clarke's lips and trails kisses down her neck to her chest before she unties the bikini string behind her neck. The top falls down off of her chest, and Lexa takes the opportunity to suck one of her nipples into her mouth, nibbling as she feels it harden. She palms her other breast, and Clarke groans at the loss of contact when Lexa pulls away and continues placing kisses down her stomach. She pushes Clarke's legs further apart and kneels in front of her. She kisses along the edge of the swimsuit over to the string that ties the two halves together. She smiles when Clarke whimpers thinking Lexa is going to untie the bow. Instead, she kisses over the material covering her mons before running her tongue down the length of Clarke's slit.

The taste of chlorine is prominent, but there's something else. Something distinctly 'Clarke' mixed with the sweetness of pineapple. Clarke resists the temptation to jerk her hips forward as Lexa continues swiping her tongue over the bikini, but she does allow herself to tangle her fingers in Lexa's hair and pull her closer. Deciding that she's teased the woman enough, Lexa unties both sides of the swimsuit and lets the bottoms fall to the floor. She spreads Clarke's lips and takes her clit in her mouth. It's already swollen with arousal, and Lexa moans around the nub, sending vibrations through Clarke. She can't take it anymore and starts a slow grind on Lexa's face.

Clarke looks down and locks eyes with Lexa. It's a ridiculous thing to be thinking, but for a moment, she is worried that Lexa's dress will be ruined from their activities. The thought vanishes as quickly as it appears as Lexa slides her tongue into Clarke's opening. Clarke arches her back away from the door and bites down on her bottom lip as she picks up the pace of her grinding. The two never break eye contact as Lexa reaches up and rubs slow circles over Clarke's clit. That sensation, coupled with the feeling of Lexa's tongue moving inside her, sends her over the edge. She grips the back of Lexa's head and jerks against her face, riding out the waves of her orgasm. 

With one final jerk of her hips, she falls back against the door and pulls Lexa up to her and away from her sensitive area. She kisses her deeply. There's something about being able to taste herself on Lexa's lips that drives her crazy. She can't get enough, but she's finally able to pull away. She unties the other string to her top, and it too falls to the floor. She pulls Lexa in for another quick kiss and then whispers into her lips. “My turn.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

The two lay side by side under the sheets on Clarke's bed, and Clarke is finally able to trace over Lexa's tattoos like she had first wanted that night at the bar. Lexa enjoys the soft touch and frowns when Clarke stops. The other woman moves her hand down to Lexa's side and runs her finger over the healed stab wound.

“Your stitches are out,” she observes and continues to trace over the pink scar. “You were supposed to let me take care of that.”

“I kind of figured it would end up like this if I had let you take care of it. A lot of good that did.”

The two laugh, and Clarke scoots closer and gives Lexa a quick peck. “Do you want to play twenty questions?”

“I'm not really in the mood to solve a puzzle.”

“I play it differently,” she says and moves her fingers back up to Lexa's tattoo.

“Of course you do.”

Clarke laughs again and gives Lexa another quick kiss. “We each take a turn asking the other a question. I really do enjoy having sex with you, but it'd be nice to get to know you better.”

“Okay. You go first.”

Clarke smiles and decides to start the game off easy. “What's your favorite color?”

“Red.” The answer is obvious enough with the roses and dress taken into account.

“What's your favorite kind of food?” 

“Chinese.”

Lexa furrows her brows at that. “But last night you said you didn't like it.”

“I lied. I was mad at you. Is there a meaning behind your roses?” she asks before Lexa can question her about what she was mad about.

“They represent the people most important to me. My dad, Tris, and Gustus.” 

Clarke scoots even closer and stops running her fingers over Lexa's arm. She moves her hand behind the woman and traces small circles up and down her back.

“Why do you want to be a doctor?”

Clarke takes a moment to think about it before she answers. “I'm not sure I do. It's just something my parents have wanted for me since I was little, especially my mom. What did you want to be when you were little?”

“A cop,” there's no hesitation from Lexa, and her answer surprises Clarke, even though she thinks it probably shouldn't. “But then I realized most of them were crooked, so I changed my mind. What else would you want to do if you're not sure about being a doctor?”

“I like to paint and draw, but I'm not sure how good I am at either. I haven't had the time since being in med school. What's your favorite movie?”

“I don't know if I have one, but I like the Batman trilogy a lot.” 

Clarke laughs at that. “What a surprise. The vigilante likes movies about a vigilante.”

This time it's Lexa that leans in for a kiss, but it's mostly to get Clarke to stop laughing at her. “What's the worst mistake you've ever made?” she asks as she pulls away. 

“Trusting Finn. He ruined one of my friendships.” Clarke doesn't mind talking to Lexa about him, but even that answer seems so insignificant in this moment with her. “Are you only attracted to women?”

“Yes.” 

Clarke props herself up on her elbow, pushes Lexa onto her back, and drags her nails up and down the space between Lexa's breasts.

“What's your favorite color?” Lexa asks trying to steer the game back to the innocence it started out as, but her stiffening nipples betray her arousal.

“Blue. How many women have you slept with?” Clarke bends down and takes one of Lexa's erect nipples into her mouth and swirls her tongue around it.

“Six,” Lexa says with a moan. It's not until Clarke leans back up that she's able to form her own question. “How many people have you slept with?” 

“Five.” She positions herself between the other woman's legs and pushes her hips down into Lexa's. “Are you sure you don't want to date me?” Lexa is only able to nod, the arousal taking over. “But you like fucking me?” She nods again and gasps when Clarke grinds down harder into her. “I like it when you fuck me too,” she whispers into Lexa's ear.

Lexa reaches around Clarke and pulls her closer, their wetness mixing together. Clarke knows that Lexa is done with questions for now, so she continues with her own. “What's the sexiest thing anyone's ever done for you?” 

It takes awhile, but Lexa is finally able to answer through heavy breathing. “It was the thing with the panties, but this might top that.” Clarke rakes her teeth down Lexa's throat, and before she's able to ask something else, Lexa beats her to it. “What's the sexiest thing anyone's done for you?”

Clarke picks up the pace and earns a moan each time she pushes her center into Lexa's. “You showing up in that dress and going down on me.” She trails her fingers down Lexa's chest and stomach and squeezes her hand in between their bodies. She spreads Lexa's lips and teases her opening by dipping a finger just inside. “Does that feel good?”

Lexa gasps in response but is still able to give a slight nod. Clarke enters her with two fingers and curls them inside of her, and that's all it takes for Lexa to cling to her. The way she pushes her hips up into Clarke's as she rides out her orgasm quickly sends Clarke into her own ecstasy again.

She collapses on top of Lexa, spent. Lexa runs her hands over Clarke's back in soothing circles as they both catch their breath. “So, what's your favorite book?” Lexa asks when she's finally able to form words.

“The bible.” They both laugh and Clarke rolls partially off from on top Lexa and settles into her side with a leg thrown over hers. “Is that a better way to play twenty questions?”

“You're definitely better at sex games than you are at drinking games. Who was that guy in the hot tub?”

Clarke's hopes that they wouldn't have to have this conversation right away are crushed with the question, but she doesn't want to lie. “Jackson. I'm going out with him tomorrow.”

“What if I asked you not to?”

Clarke considers this but shakes her head. “Twenty questions are up.”

She sits up in the bed and pulls the sheet up over herself, suddenly feeling exposed. “I need you to tell me more about this place you think you've found. The center of the drug operation.”

Lexa sighs and runs a hand through her hair to compose herself. “I was able to find a couple other houses involved in the drug ring. A car parked outside one had a Bay Harbor Butchery sticker on the back. I followed that lead and found the same van that's been at other houses parked in front of the store.”

“This sounds like a trap, Lexa. No one would be that stupid.”

“Even if it is, I still need to find out.”

“Then you need something better to wear. A sweatshirt offers no protection.”

Lexa stands and picks up her dress and underwear from the floor. “It'll have to do until I can afford something better,” she says as she begins to get dressed.

There's a knock on Clarke's door, and the two jump at the unexpected sound. “Clarke? Is everything okay?” she hears Jackson call from outside. Remembering that he knows her apartment number because he helped carry ice chests out to the pool, Clarke jumps out of bed and the two scramble to get dressed.

“Good luck with the date,” Lexa says as she helps Clarke tie her top around her neck and back. She opens the door when both are decent. Jackson stands in the hallway and stares at the two women, confusion on his face. They may be decent, but they are still disheveled from rushing to get their clothes back on. “I have something I need to do.” Lexa maneuvers around Jackson and leaves the two to stand in awkward silence.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Guests fill Lincoln's art gallery, but the only one he cares about is Octavia. She's late, but she's always been one to make an entrance. And make an entrance she does. She wears the little black dress she knows he likes. It's usually only reserved for date nights, and even then she makes a point of not bringing it out too often. But she knows shows are stressful for Lincoln, and she wants to help take his mind off of it any way she can. 

“Hey, sorry I'm late,” she says and leans in for a kiss. 

Lincoln doesn't care about that, he's just happy she's here. He never feels more out of place than he does when he's in a room full of people that make three to four times the amount of money he does. 

The artist whose work is on display is at the front of the room talking to a perspective buyer. Lincoln knows it's his job to walk him around, introducing him to the guests, but he can't be bothered to do so this time.

Octavia straightens his tie and runs her hands down his jacket to smooth out a couple of faint wrinkles in the material. “Relax. The gallery will make lots of money tonight. You know how rich people feel about their 'art'.”

Their attention is drawn to the door as a man and a woman enter. Octavia recognizes them right away. “That's the deputy mayor, Marcus Kane,” she whispers excitedly to her boyfriend.

Lincoln doesn't know him. He didn't even know something like Deputy Mayor exists. “Clarke's mom is dating that guy?” 

Abby notices them from across the room and points them out to Marcus. They weave their way around the other guests, and she leans in to hug Octavia once they reach the other two. “Octavia, it's so good to see you.”

Octavia doesn't know how to react. It's been so long since she's seen Clarke's mom, and she knows it's been just as long for Clarke. The two aren't in the best place at the moment, so Octavia feels uncomfortable standing with the woman now. “Mrs. Griffin,” she starts and immediately regrets her words. “I mean, Abby. How are you doing?”

If Octavia's slip bothers either Abby or Marcus, neither lets it show. Marcus is busy scanning the walls for a picture he might want to buy, so Octavia doubts he even heard her.

“I'm doing well. Please tell Clarke I said hello and that it wouldn't hurt to return her mother's calls.”

She leads Marcus away before Octavia can respond, and she and Lincoln stand there dumbfounded. 

“What just happened?” Lincoln asks as he watches Marcus and Abby make a beeline for one of the photographs. After a few moments, Marcus waves him over, and Lincoln grumbles in annoyance. 

“I'm interested in this piece,” Marcus says once Lincoln joins them again. The piece in question is a black and white photo of the Massachusetts State Building with a lone dark figure standing in the shadows under one of the arches. “I think Theo would love it.”

Lincoln removes the title card from beneath the picture and writes Marcus's name on the back and places a sticker on the front before placing the card back in its place. 

“See me after the show, and I'll get you taken care of.”

Marcus offers a curt nod and leads Abby away to look at the rest of the photographs. Octavia joins him again, and the two study the picture. “He thinks the mayor will like it,” he says to break the silence.

“A picture of a building?” she asks.

“You know how rich people feel about their art,” he mimics her statement from earlier.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Gustus flips on the light as Tris walks through the door to their apartment carrying a box of pizza. She hopes Lexa is in the mood for a movie night, but the dark apartment makes her think she isn't home. Disappointment gets pushed aside, though, when she sees the keyboard in the middle of the living room.

She shoves the pizza box into her uncle's arms and runs to the instrument. There's a note taped to it, and she pulls it free to read. 

“Told you not to worry about it. Call the number on here. I took care of the first five lessons. Maybe Gus can take care of the rest.”

She turns in excitement to her uncle, hoping he'll be just as happy as she is, but he's at the table with his back to her and his phone to his ear.

“Lexa, I don't know what this is about, but you get your ass home now.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

The screen on Lexa's phone flashes to life, and Gustus's name appears above the only picture Lexa believes he's ever smiled for. 

But Lexa doesn't see the phone sitting in her car. She's walking down the alley in a new sweatshirt and a duffle bag over her shoulder holding three bottles of bleach. She hopes it'll be enough. 

This time she wears a new pair of kevlar combat gloves. They are all she can afford, but it's a start, even if they are too big and need to be taped around her wrists.

Her car is further away this time to avoid suspicion, so it takes her longer to reach the butcher shop. When she arrives at the backdoor, she sees that she needs a keycard to unlock it. She has no idea how to get around that. Her pick set won't do any good on a computer system, and she doesn't have the equipment needed to hack it or destroy it. Breaking a window is out of the question as they are covered with bars, and even if she is able to get around that, an alarm system would sound.

Waiting is her best option. She can hear men inside, so all she can do is hope one of them comes to the back door. She slides up against the side of the building and hides in its shadow. The wait seems longer than it is, but a man carrying two trash bags finally comes through the backdoor and tosses them into the dumpster in the alley. 

Lexa steps out of the shadows as soon as the man starts to turn. He is met with a quick jab and a hard right cross. He falls noiselessly to the ground, and Lexa searches his body for the keycard. Finding it in his front pocket, she swipes it over the pad and the light turns green, unlocking the door.

The man in the eyepatch turns around expecting to see his companion come back in. His apron is covered in blood, and he's holding a meat cleaver in his hand. Lexa feels more exposed than she ever has before standing in the light like this. Even though her hood and eye black should conceal her identity, she's used to operating under the cover of darkness. She tilts her head slightly down to the ground in hopes that it will offer better concealment of her face.

“You actually showed up. I told Boss that you wouldn't be stupid enough to fall for it, but you did. He thought it would have been sooner, though, so I will give you that. I got new orders this time. He wants you dead.” He rushes at her with the cleaver, and she's just able to jump out of the way in time.

He grabs her by the bag and flings her across the room. She needs to find a better way to carry her equipment. These bags are too much of a liability. She rolls away from another strike and is able to get the strap of her bag over her head and stretches it out between her hands in time to catch his next blow. She twists the material around his hand until the cleaver falls to the floor, and she thrusts her elbow into his face. He staggers backwards from the impact, but before she can advance on him, two more men run down the stairs across the room. 

She rushes to meet them and uses the first's momentum against him, and lays him out with a swift cross. The other tries to jump over the fallen man, but he trips over him and falls the rest of the way down the stairs. She steps over both men and takes the stairs two at a time to reach the top. Eyepatch is back up and hurls the two men stumbling back to their feet out of the way.

Lexa tries the door at the top of the stairs, but it's locked. The same pad is installed next to this door as the one outside, but Lexa no longer has the keycard. It lays on the floor from when Eyepatch threw her across the room. Now she's cornered as he comes up the stairs. She decides to jump over the railing just as he reaches her. He's able to grab ahold of her arm but only manages to rip part of the sleeve. Lexa falls to the first floor and lands with such a force that she thinks her ankle is broken. 

The two men from the stairs rush towards her. One has the cleaver, and the other breaks a broom handle in half over his knee. He tosses the half with the broom attached aside and swings the other toward her face. She catches the wooden weapon between her hands before it can make contact with its target. There's a sting even through the gloves, but they do their job and offer her hands protection. She holds onto the handle with one hand, and decks him with the other. He stumbles back just as Eyepatch joins. She makes quick work of him by striking him hard across the face. The handle breaks in half again with a loud crack. She holds onto the jagged half and turns just as the man with the meat cleaver is almost on top of her. He waits for an opportunity of distraction, but it ends up being a mistake. His speed doesn't allow him to stop in time, and he impales himself on what's left of the handle she holds. 

The two stare at each other, shock and regret in both of their eyes. Lexa is sure that, in that moment, the man recognizes her. The cleaver clatters to the floor and they both look down at the weapon sticking out of his stomach. Sirens blare in the distance, and Lexa pulls the handle free as the man begins to droop to the floor. She grabs her bag and runs through the back door, her ankle screaming in pain. 

She slams her knee into the face of the man outside just starting to get up from being knocked out. She runs down the alleyway as fast as her hurting ankle will allow her, and she hears the sirens scream past her on the main road. She runs several blocks, her ankle and lungs both begging for a break, but she's forced to stop short of her car when she sees a cop shining a flashlight through her window.

The officer hears her and turns the light towards her. It's Anya.

She doesn't even try to escape. Anya knows her car. She's been found out.

Anya straightens and leaves her spot next to the car to walk towards Lexa. The light from the flashlight never wavers from her friend's face. She takes it all in. The hoodie, the bag, the eye black, but most importantly, the broken broom handle covered in blood.


	6. The Aftermath

Anya closes the distance and grabs Lexa's arm to raise the bloody weapon up for inspection. She shines the light away from Lexa's face to get a better look, but it doesn't take long for her to back away and click the light off. She reaches up for the radio on her shoulder, and Lexa knows in that moment that everything is over. Fighting her best friend isn't an option.

“No suspicious activity in the alleyway. Making my way to the scene now,” she says into the radio, throwing Lexa for a loop. “Get in your car and drive away. Don't go home. Drive around for a few hours, and then meet me at my apartment. Wipe that stupid shit off of your face, and make sure you don't lose that.” She points at the broom handle, and then walks around Lexa to the butcher shop.

“Anya, wait,” Lexa starts.

“Go. Now.” Anya doesn't bother turning around to address her, but Lexa doesn't wait for her friend to change her mind. She limps to the car and climbs inside. Before driving away, she puts the handle into her bag, throws it onto the passenger floorboard, and pulls off her hoodie. She wipes her face off the best she can with the garment and then throws it on top of the contents on the floor, trying to cover it as much as possible.

Her heartbeat is racing as she turns the ignition, hoping that Anya was the only cop in the area. She plays it safe, though, and backs out of the alley with her lights off.  
~~~~~~~~~

Anya enters the crime scene through the back door to find one man laying in a pool of blood. Paramedics rush through the door leading to the front and take over for the cops trying to save his life. Three other men sit in various stages of injury. One man's face is covered in blood, his nose likely broken. Another man, this one wearing an eyepatch, has a long bruise forming across his cheek and a busted lip. The third only has a nasty black eye starting to appear.

Other paramedics run into the room and begin to look over these men, but their focus is entirely on their dying friend who is being loaded up onto a gurney. They watch as he's taken out of the room, and Anya notices the look the two other men give the one in the eyepatch. 

As the paramedics treat them, other cops surround them to start asking questions while Anya takes the opportunity to scan the room. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, but she knows looks can be deceiving. 

“All right, vital personnel only. The rest of you continue to scan the area,” the most senior officer calls out over the room.

Anya gives the three men another look before she exits back out into the night.  
~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn't take long before Anya is back at the station to fill out her nightly paperwork. The fact that the three men, bandaged and cleaned up, are also present to continue answering questions doesn't surprise her. As far as her fellow officers are concerned, these men are victims. 

Her desk is close enough to where the man in the eyepatch sits giving his statement that she's able to listen without making it obvious that's what she's doing.

“A hooded man broke into the shop, or maybe it was just a kid. They weren't very big, but they broke into the shop by knocking out one of my guys taking out the trash and stealing his key. Next thing I know we're being attacked. I think they might have been after some money we keep in the room upstairs. We tried to get them under control, but they broke a broom handle in half and started swinging.” The man points to his cheek and busted lip to show the damage done. “Then they freaked and stabbed Mark and ran off.”

The cop jots everything down in his small notebook, making sure no detail is left out. “Could you describe this man?” he asks as he looks up from the paper.

“You know that picture taken of that so called vigilante? What was it? Dark Justice or something? That's who they reminded me of. Black hoodie pulled down over part of their face, but what I could see was covered in this black paint.”

The cop starts writing again, and Anya realizes she's staring. She continues to work on her own paperwork in an effort to not draw attention to herself.

“And could I ask what happened to your eye? I don't see it listed in the report of injuries here.”

The man lets out a chuckle before answering. “This is just a precaution for a procedure I had not too long ago. A butcher shop is a nasty place. I don't want an infection.”

Unable to stall any longer, Anya finishes up her work and gets up to inform the other officer. “All of my reports are done. I'll see you tomorrow.”

The officer just nods while the man in the eyepatch offers her a smile, but there's nothing friendly behind it. 

On the way out of the precinct, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and scrolls through her contact list. She hits the call button and waits for the call to connect.

“Hello?” a tired voice answers.

“Gus, I need you to meet me at my place. It's important.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

Lexa sits on the hood of her car with her bag resting on the ground by her feet. Anya pulls into the space next to her and gets out. They don't say a word as they walk into her apartment, and Anya simply points at a chair by the table, instructing Lexa to have a seat. Lexa does as she's told and drops the bag on the table before sitting.

Anya sits in the chair across from her and pulls the bag over. She unzips it and pulls out the hoodie and examines it. She tugs at the rip in the arm and looks up at Lexa to see if the woman has been injured. Not seeing anything of concern, she puts the sweatshirt aside and continues with the bottles of bleach. She shakes her head as she pulls each one out of the bag. Next come the gloves, and Anya isn't surprised to see that they are covered in blood. She lays them on top of the sweatshirt, careful not to smear any of the blood on the table. 

Finally, she pulls out the broken broom handle. It appears to have been broken in half more than once, just by looking at the size of it. The blood stain stops halfway up the piece of wood, and remembering the man in the pool of blood, she doesn't think his outcome will be good. 

“Anything else?” she asks while still holding the handle.

“There's a map and pick set in the front pocket,” Lexa answers quietly. 

She puts the bloody weapon back in the bag and takes out the map and pick set. Unfolding the map, she sighs when she sees the circled and marked out targets.

“The last I heard, the man was in critical condition. They don't know if he'll make it.”

A banging at the door keeps Lexa from responding. Anya looks through the peephole and opens the door when she sees that it's Gustus.

Lexa looks on in shock as her uncle enters the room, disappointment on his face. He walks over to the table and stares down at her tools. He begins stroking his beard, which is only reserved for times he's at a complete loss for words. She remembers how he reacted when she came home after being stabbed, and not even then had he been speechless. Worry creeps through her as he takes the seat Anya had been occupying and looks into the bag holding the one thing Lexa doesn't want him to see.

He drops the bag, leans back in the chair, and lets out a long sigh. “What am I supposed to do, Lexa? You're my family. I can't turn you in, but I have a duty to protect Tris.” Lexa furrows her brows in confusion and waits for him to continue. “I made a promise to your father that I would look after you girls, and I think my job is done when it comes to you, but Tris is still a kid.”

“What does that...” The look he gives her is enough to quiet her.

“I thought after you'd been stabbed you would have smartened up, but clearly you didn't. What you do with your life and the company you choose to keep, that's on you, but it needs to stay away from your sister. You'll fill her head with ridiculous ideas just like your father did to you. Or worse, you'll get her killed. You can come by tomorrow while we're at church and pack up whatever you need to. I want you gone before we get back.”

Part of Anya regrets calling the man, especially when she sees her friend's face fall, but she knows he would have found out eventually. It's better this way.

“Gus, please don't do this,” Lexa pleads. It's not something Anya has ever seen from the woman.

“No. You may not care about yourself. You obviously don't care about me and what I want, but I know you care about her. Do whatever you want, Lexa, but do it away from us.”

Anya's not sure it's possible to see the exact moment someone's heart breaks, but the pain that fills Lexa's eyes as Gustus walks out of the apartment breaks hers. The door doesn't slam behind him. He can't muster the strength for it.

“Are you going to turn me in?” Lexa asks after she composes herself. She never lets a tear fall, but it's only after several minutes that she trusts her voice enough not to crack with emotion.

“No. I need to show you something.” Anya leaves the room, and Lexa is thankful for the privacy. She massages her throbbing ankle, relishing in the pain. It's better than the numbness that has been threatening to overtake her since Gustus walked through the door.

Anya comes back into the room, rolling a bulletin board in front of her. A large map and several pictures litter the board, and Lexa isn't entirely sure what she's looking at.

“You have managed to fuck up years of work in about a month. Government agencies have been following leads since before I joined the academy. The sudden influx of drugs in South Boston? It isn't unexpected. Coke in Back Bay and Beacon Hill. Marijuana surrounding the universities. Meth here.” She accentuates each location by tapping the corresponding area on the map. “Whatever evidence they could have gathered from their own raids, you've destroyed with that shit.” This time she points to the bottles of bleach. “Bay Harbor Butchery has been a place of interest for months. That's the only reason we were able to respond so quickly to the alarm. One of the men there must have triggered it during whatever it was that happened there.”

Lexa sits there in stunned silence. The map on the board is almost identical to her own in terms of targets within South Boston. “Why are you showing me all of this?” she's finally able to mutter.

“Just because they say they're building a case doesn't mean anything will ever be done with it. Information like this will sit for years until it becomes stale, especially for a man like Dante Wallace. A lot of this stuff I had to find out on my own through other sources.” She taps one of the pictures, and Lexa recognizes the man instantly. “This is Anthony Delano. I assume the eyepatch is your doing?” Lexa simply nods in response. “He's in charge of the South Boston operation. He reports to someone else, but no one has been able to figure out who.”

“It's Dante. Who else would it be?” Lexa asks as she stands and makes her way to the board for a better look.

“It can't be. All of his calls, letters, and visitors are screened. I don't think it's his son either. All of Cage's activities are being monitored. He's clean.”

“That doesn't make sense. It has to be one of them. Someone is feeding you bad information.” Lexa studies the outdated picture of the man responsible for her dad being in prison. She hopes the years haven't been kind to Dante. 

“Whoever it is, you've really screwed up the investigation. But maybe that isn't a bad thing. Your map of Southie is nearly perfect, and you did all of that with the fraction of the training and resources I have. You might be the key to breaking this whole thing open.”

“What about the butcher shop. You said it's a place of interest. Were you able to find anything?”

Anya shakes her head. “It's been cleaned out. I don't know how everything was moved without us noticing, but nothing was found there.”

“So I killed that guy for nothing?” Lexa asks through a bitter laugh. 

“He isn't dead yet, Lexa.” Anya tries to reassure her, but it falls on deaf ears.

“You said it yourself. They don't know if he'll make it, which means he won't.”

“Look, what might or might not happen is out of your control. You shouldn't have been there in the first place, but everything now is out of your hands. This,” she gestures to the board before continuing, “this you have control over. We need to find Delano's center of operation for his drugs, and we need to find his boss. But before we can do any of that, we need to destroy that evidence.” She looks at the bag and Lexa understands.

“What I need to do is find somewhere to live. You just got me kicked out.” There's no anger or malice in her tone. Like Gustus, she can't muster the strength for it.

“You can stay here as long as you need,” Anya offers. Despite everything that has happened and whatever else that could happen, she needs this friendship to stay in one piece. The weight of sacrificing everything else is lessened with the inclusion of Anya. It'll be hard work, and at times, maybe too much. Tonight is one of those times, but even with a man's life hanging in the balance, they each still have hope.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Clarke sees Bellamy entering the gym and rushes to catch up with him. “Do you ever do anything besides go to the gym?”

“Not since you bailed on me that night at Molly's,” he responds in jest. Clarke is happy that they have been able to move past any animosity that might have been building. As far as she can tell, Bellamy is a simple man, and she needs a little simplicity in her life right now. “Hey, is everything okay with your dad?”

“Yeah, why?” She scans the gym for the man in question but has no luck finding him.

“Some guy was in here with some steaks or something. It was weird. Then Lexa's fight got cancelled, and she dropped out of the gym.” This is all news to Clarke, and none of it good. 

“Thanks for letting me know.” She doesn't stick around for anymore chitchat. She knows he has a workout to get to, and she needs to find out what's going on. Walking to her dad's office, she notices Murphy in the corner, glaring at Bellamy. Either he's oblivious or doesn't care, but Clarke hopes for Murphy's sake another fight doesn't break out.

She knocks on her dad's office door and enters with a smile on her face. Things have been tense between them recently, but it's always good to see him, especially when he's smiling back at her with one of his 'Dad' smiles. The kind of smile men try to act like they aren't capable of giving until their only daughter walks into the room. 

“Hey, Dad,” she greets. He closes up his safe before he wraps his arms around her and pulls her in for a crushing hug. His strength is still very much present, even at his age. “You okay?” she asks when he finally releases her and she's able to breathe comfortably.

“Couldn't be better. Everything okay with you?”

“Everything's good.” It's obvious to the both of them that the other is lying, but neither wants to push the subject. “I actually came by to see if you wanted breakfast. We haven't done that in awhile.”

“There's a donut place down the street. You in the mood for coffee and plain cakes?” 

Clarke scrunches up her face in disgust. Coffee and plain cake donuts have always been her dad's go to breakfast meal. He's adamant that dunking the donuts into the coffee is the closest anyone will ever get to heaven on earth. Clarke is adamant that dunking donuts into coffee is a waste of good coffee.

He laughs and nudges her with his shoulder. “Don't worry. I'll get you your chocolate donut holes.”

The first part of their walk is spent talking about the weather. Clarke has never been all that good with smalltalk with her dad, and even less so when there's something important being ignored. “Bellamy told me that some guy came into the gym. He thinks that's why Lexa's fight was cancelled and she left your gym,” she blurts out, unable to continue talking about how nice the breeze feels.

“Don't worry about any of that, Clarke. Lexa will come around. She's always been hotheaded.” Clarke notices he fails to mention the other man at all. They reach the donut shop, and Clarke pours them each a cup of coffee while her dad orders their food. He sets her half dozen chocolate donut holes in front of her and pulls his plain cake out of its bag. “As nice as this is, how about you tell me what you want? You've got that 'Dad, please' look on your face,” he says before dunking his donut into his coffee and taking a bite.

She smiles and shakes her head. “I really did just want to spend the morning with you, but I do think you'll be happy to know I'm going on a lunch date with a guy from school.”

Jake beams with what Clarke can only assume is pride. “That does make me happy. I've always said you need to be focusing on people like that. People with goals and plans for their future.”

“I know you think Lexa is going nowhere with her life, but you couldn't be more wrong about her, Dad. It doesn't matter anyway. She's not interested in dating me.” 

He does feel bad when he sees how upset that makes his daughter, but he can't find it in himself to feel too bad. “That's for the best. I promise.”

“I'd like to remind you that you fell for the girl on the right side of the tracks. Look how well that turned out for you.”

“Okay, okay. I've faced enough low blows in the ring. I don't need them from you.” 

He plunges his donut back into his coffee, and Clarke lets out the same gag she's been faking since she was a kid. In that moment, nothing else matters for either of them.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Clarke has time to kill before her lunch date with Jackson, so she decides to invite Octavia out to Ninth Inning for a couple of mimosas. The weather is perfect for patio sitting, but Clarke is too preoccupied with texting Lexa to really savor it. She still hasn't heard anything from the woman since she found out about what happened. It's all the news has been talking about, and the fact she can't get ahold of Lexa begins to worry her.

“Sorry I'm late,” Octavia calls out from behind her. Clarke puts her phone down and tries her best to hide the worry and frustration she feels.

“You're always late,” Clarke greets with a smile.

“I know. It's my only flaw.”

Clarke laughs as Octavia sits and takes a sip from her drink. “Wow. Who would have thought a sports bar would have the best mimosas in the city?”

“It's kind of hard to screw up a mimosa, don't you think?”

“Hard, but completely possible. Just ask the several other restaurants serving brunch right now. Anyway, I'm glad you called. I think you should know that your mom was at the show last night. She was with Marcus Kane. They bought a photograph together.”

“Shocker.” Her mother is the last thing she wants to be discussing while thoughts of her father and Lexa cloud her mind. “Speaking of photographs, did Lincoln mention anything about the one I was interested in?”

“Yep. He said it's on the house, and he'll have it delivered to your place within a week. It was one of the better shots, but it doesn't really scream 'Clarke'. What was it about that one that you liked?”

There's something about the figures under the bridge, their shadows reaching toward the city, that reminds her of Lexa and what she's trying to accomplish by taking out the Irish Mob. She can't reveal this to Octavia without opening herself up to more questions, so she lies. “I just thought it would look good in my apartment.”

That seems to satisfy Octavia enough. For someone involved in the legal system, Clarke is glad she's able to accept things and move on from them without too much fuss. “Yeah, I'm sure it will. So as good as these drinks are, and as happy as I am to see you, what made you pick this place?”

She might not pry too much into one subject, but Clarke should have known that Octavia would question her choice to meet here and not one of their usual spots. “I'm meeting Jackson for a date.” 

“Are you serious? I thought you were into Lexa?” 

“You're the one that suggested it in the first place, Octavia. Lexa just wants to be friends.”

“Yeah? How many times have you had sex with her?” She puts her elbows on the table and leans forward. Now the paralegal side of Octavia shines through. 

“We hooked up again last night.” Clarke tries to be nonchalant about everything, but she can feel the blush creeping up her neck, and she has no doubt Octavia notices it too.

She smiles, genuinely happy for her friend. “Then she doesn't want to be just friends. Look, whatever happens with her, don't use this guy as a rebound. I was really just messing around with you. Speaking of.” Octavia nods her head in the direction behind Clarke, and she turns to see Jackson walking onto the patio.

“Octavia, I didn't realize you would be joining us today.” He's trying to be polite, but there's no hiding the disappointment in his voice.

“Actually, I won't be. I was just keeping Clarke company until you got here.” She finishes the rest of her drink and stands. “Talk to you later, okay?” She says to Clarke and waves to Jackson as she leaves with her portion of the tab unpaid. Clarke rolls her eyes when she sees Octavia throw a playoff look over her shoulder.

The chair across from her, scrapping across concrete, draws her attention back to Jackson, but her phone vibrates on the table and distracts her just as quickly. It's Lexa. She's not able to ignore the call fast enough, and Jackson see's the name flash on the screen. Clarke doesn't want to ignore her call, she feels terrible for doing it, but now is the worst time for Lexa to finally respond.

“Is that your friend from last night?”

“Yes.” He doesn't need anymore explanation than that, and she doesn't feel the need to offer him any.

Their awkward silence is finally broken when a waitress comes to take their order. Still full from her donuts, Clarke orders a kale salad while Jackson goes the more traditional sports bar route and chooses a burger. 

Small talk passes the time as they wait for their food, but once it arrives and they start eating, Clarke realizes they don't have much in common.

“You've really never seen an episode of Game of Thrones? It's one of my favorites.” Clarke shrugs her shoulders. “What about music? I recently came across Quilt. They're a local band, so maybe you know them.”

“I've never heard of them,” she laughs. Jackson proceeds to list off several other bands, none of which are familiar to Clarke. 

The rest of lunch is much the same. Jackson desperately wants to form some kind of connection with her, no matter how small, and Clarke doesn't want to disappoint him, but there's nothing there. No spark. She tells herself that first dates can sometimes be this way, but she's not sure she believes that's the reason.

After they're done, Jackson walks Clarke to her car and opens the door for her. She should find it charming and endearing, especially in a city like Boston, but the action falls flat. 

“Could we do this again sometime?” He's so hopeful, and Clarke can't find it in herself to let him down, so she agrees.

After he closes the door behind her and jogs across the street to his car, Clarke pulls out her phone and sees that she has a text from Lexa asking to meet her at Anya's later and includes the address. It strikes Clarke as odd that she would be asking to meet there instead of her own apartment. It has to be because of the busted raid and the man in the hospital. She hopes for the best but expects the worst.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Lexa's car is loaded with as much of her stuff as she can fit into it. Despite being told to be gone before Tris and Gustus get home, she can't force herself to leave without seeing her sister, so she sits on the couch and waits.

They come into the apartment in their Sunday best, neither one of them expecting to see her sitting there. Tris runs over and throws her arms around Lexa's neck, nearly tackling her into the couch. 

“Thank you so much for my keyboard. Gustus thinks we should take it back, though.”

Lexa looks over Tris's shoulder at her uncle. “I bought that for you. It's yours to do what you want with, okay?” It's a warning for Gustus more than reassurance for Tris. She loves him and is willing to do what he asks in leaving the apartment, but she's not going to let him come between her and her sister. That's where she draws the line even if he does want her out of Tris's life. 

Tris lets go and notices the backpack sitting next to Lexa on the couch. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I am. I thought about what you said yesterday. That I need to start doing some things for myself, and I think you're right. You deserve your own room, and it's way past time I moved out of this place.”

“I didn't mean you had to move out right now. I don't care if I have to share a room with you.” She's on the verge of breaking down, and that's the last thing Lexa wants to see. This is hard enough as it is without making her sister cry.

“You may not care, but I've gotta save my sanity. That snoring, Tris. You could give Uncle Gus a run for his money.”

Lexa stands and shoulders her bag before pulling Tris in for another hug. “I don't snore,” she sniffles into Lexa's chest.

“Tell that to my ears. You'll see me just as much, I promise. Lunch and movie nights just like we do now, and I want updates on your lessons, okay?”

Tris nods and wipes at her eyes as Lexa pulls away. Gustus still stands in the entrance of the apartment with his arms crossed over his chest, but he follows her out after she kisses her sister goodbye. 

“This isn't what we agreed on, Lexa,” he says as he shuts the door behind him. 

“You want me to move out, fine, but don't expect me to just stop seeing my sister. She's more important to me than anything else. You have no right to try and keep her from me.”

“She's the most important thing to you, yet you almost killed someone because you won't stop with this silly idea of yours.”

Lexa looks at him with bewilderment and quickly scans the hallway to make sure they are alone. “Screw you, Gustus. I made a mistake, and trust me, I feel awful, but it doesn't change how I feel about my family.”

“You said your goodbyes. You need to leave now.” 

There are no hugs or teary eyes this time. Anger is the only thing that remains as she turns to leave.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Lexa bypasses Anya sitting at the dining room table and heads straight for the balcony. Unloading the car can wait. She needs to be alone to give herself time to think. She sits on one of the ripped and worn out barstools serving as Anya's patio furniture and looks out into the parking lot. It isn't a great view, but she doesn't need it to be. The opportunity for time alone doesn't last long, though, as the balcony door opens again, revealing Clarke.

“Hey, Anya let me in. She told me what happened with Gustus.” She's not sure if she should comfort the other woman, if that's something she would even appreciate, so she chooses to stand next to her instead.

“Have you seen the news?”

“Yes. Are you okay?”

Lexa laughs, but there is no emotion behind it, and finally looks away from the parked cars below them. “The past day has been pretty shitty. The fight I was looking forward to was scrapped. I removed myself from your dad's roster. Nearly broke my ankle. Pretty sure I killed a guy. Anya found out. Gustus kicked me out. The only good thing that happened was the sex with you.”

“About...” Clarke begins before being cut off by Lexa.

“I know it was a mistake, but I don't regret it.” The look in her eyes is all Clarke needs to know she's telling the truth, and it confuses her. 

“No, about your fight. A man came into the gym and dropped off a package of meat from a butcher's shop. Then, all of a sudden, your fight gets cancelled. That has to be the reason.”

“It doesn't matter. I found a new gym that offers more. I took karate lessons when I was younger, so I know the basics, but I need to know different styles so I don't feel like I'm walking into something unprepared. So far I've been shot at, stabbed, and nearly broke my leg. I need to be able to handle things without accidentally killing someone.”

Clarke watches her rotate her foot in slow circles. This must be the leg she hurt, but the fact she's able to move it at all eases her mind. “It doesn't matter that a man from the same butcher shop you attacked paid my dad a visit? The gym is involved now, and you haven't accidentally killed anyone yet.”

“That's what Red Room Gym is known for. Its ties to the mob. I'd be willing to bet Delano, the guy that stabbed me, is the man that showed up with his message, but he won't make anymore moves now that he's been brought in by the cops for questioning. Your dad is safe for now.”

The 'for now' hangs heavy in the air, but Clarke accepts it's the best she can hope for right now. Lexa sits in silence for several long minutes, and Clarke continues to stand next to her. There's another stool she could sit on, but something about being this close to the other woman is comforting. The silence isn't awkward or suffocating the way silence sometimes can be. 

“How did your date go?” Lexa asks. The question is almost inappropriate considering everything else going on.

“I don't think that's something we need to talk about right now.” 

“I know. I just need a normal conversation to distract me.” 

Clarke sighs and leans onto the railing of the balcony. “It was okay.”

“I get why you need something like that,” Lexa says as she turns on the stool so that she's fully facing Clarke. “How would it work with us?”

“Lexa, I don't think...”

“Can we just pretend for a second?” Lexa stands and joins Clarke in leaning against the railing. Their arms rest against each other's, and Clarke can't deny that even the slightest contact feels good.

“Okay.”

“Do you like baseball?” Clarke nods. “I don't. Not really, but I guess we could go to a game. Or we could go to the movies. There's this drive-in off of Route 146 that I used to go to with Tris. Right after I got my license, we drove out there and caught a double feature. I couldn't even tell you what we saw. All I remember is Gustus was pissed. Oh, and they have the best burger and fries.” Clarke smiles, enjoying this part of Lexa. “What if I asked you again? Not to see Jackson.”

Her smile fades, and she backs away from the rail. “You can't ask me things like that. Whether you regret it or not, you think last night with me was a mistake, and all you want to do is pretend. I need more than that. I like you. I like you a lot, but we can't keep crossing these lines with each other. These lines that you wanted.”

“Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry. Can we just forget about all of this pretend stuff? It was stupid.” Lexa maneuvers around Clarke to open the door, and Clarke wants so badly to reach out and pull her back. She feels guilty for making Lexa think any of this is stupid, but she knows that would be a mistake. 

Instead, she follows her back into the apartment and catches her first glimpse of Anya's bulletin board.

“I think Red Room is back in play. Delano paid Jake a visit,” Lexa explains as she comes to a stop in front of the board. “Bellamy's fight is probably important.”

Anya nods in agreement while Clarke studies the board more closely, amazed at the detail. “Did you do all of this?” she asks Lexa.

“Lexa is responsible for that,” Anya answers and points at the crumpled map on the table. “It's basically a smaller scale version of this, though. What she lacks in other areas, she makes up for in scouting.”

“I'm working on those other areas,” Lexa defends herself.

Clarke smiles and turns back to Anya's map. “We have our work cut out for us.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

Even after a couple of days, Lexa still isn't settled into Anya's apartment. There isn't a lot of room, so unpacking has proven to be difficult. The two decide to take a break, but after flipping through the paper, it seems like a break is not what they need.

“How could something like this happen?” Lexa tosses the newspaper aside in disgust.

“They say it was a scheduling conflict, but come on, Lexa, you know how this happened. He's a rich man. Are you surprised his hearing got bumped up a few days?” Anya grabs the paper and flips to the rentals section. “If everything goes smoothly, he'll be out in a couple of weeks. Just in time for the fight.”

“There still isn't an update on that man, either.” That man is Mark O'Brien, a petty criminal trying to turn his life around and support his family with an honest job at Bay Harbor Butchery, at least according to the local news. But Lexa can't think of him as anything other than 'that man'. She sticks to newspapers and online articles because she can't watch as reporters surround his family for questions at the hospital each day or the way Delano and the other two men showcase their minor injuries for the public. Selfishly, she can't watch the media turn the public against her.

“You have to stay focused, Lexa. Whatever happens with Mark is out of your hands now.” Lexa knows that Anya's training is coming through, but even with all of that training, she's never been in this position before. She appreciates the sentiment, though.

She takes another sip of her coffee before going to dump the rest out in the sink and leaving the cup to be cleaned later. She's not much of a coffee drinker, but the restless nights are starting to take a toll on her. Stopping only to grab another piece of toast off the plate on the table, she's out the door before Anya has the chance to mention the man again.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Business starts to pick up that evening after a slow lunch hour, and Lexa is happy to finally be busy. It helps keep her mind from wandering to things she doesn't want to think about. 

She pours drinks, cleans glasses, wipes down the bar, and anything else to keep herself occupied. This works, too, until the other bartender breaks her concentration.

“Awe, that's too bad. I was really hoping he would pull through.” 

Lexa finishes pouring a drink and follows the gaze of the bartender to one of the tv's hanging from the wall. She turns up the volume and drowns out everything else. “He succumbed to his injuries early this afternoon. The doctors were never able to get his infection from the stab wound under control. We are being told that his death is being ruled a homicide, and there is an active investigation to find,” Lexa mutes the television before she can hear anything else.

“Can you handle the bar for a few minutes? I need to take care of something in the office.” She doesn't wait for a response and leaves the other woman to handle everything up front.

Once in the office, she pulls up WCVB's website and clicks the link for the top story, 'Dark Justice or Dark Intentions?'. She sits on the edge of the chair and skims through the article. 

“Is Dark Justice truly a vigilante protecting the city from the recent surge in drug activity?”

“Were the previous hits something more?”

“Other labs, including their substances, were destroyed, but where does Bay Harbor Butchery fit in? Could it be that Dark Justice is actually part of a rival group that got a bad tip?”

“Ultimately, this has led to the untimely death of an innocent man.”

Lexa exits out of the story, unable to read any further. The man isn't innocent. None of them are. Anger threatens to boil over as she pushes the chair back and begins to pace the length of the office. Delano is using the media to turn the public against her and to distract them from the real threat to the city. She has no doubt dirty cops are helping him achieve this.

She walks out of the office and back to the bar to retrieve her keys. “I need you to cover the rest of my shift. I'm feeling a little sick.”

Once again, she doesn't wait for a response and is out the door before the other bartender can say no.  
~~~~~~~~~~

The apartment is dark when she arrives. Anya's shift isn't over yet, but Lexa doesn't mind. She wants to be alone. She pulls her map out of her back pocket and unfolds it. This is how it all got started, with this little map, but nothing is that simple anymore. Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and Lexa pulls it out to see she has a text from Clarke, but before she can read it, the woman is calling her.

“Hey.”

“I thought it would be better to call you,” Clarke responds, but it's hard to hear her over the noise in the background. “I got an update from Google Alerts. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Lexa thinks she hears a sigh on the other end, but she can't be sure.

“Where are you?”

“At Anya's.” She doesn't mean to be short with Clarke, but she's having trouble finding words.

“I'll be there in a few minutes.” Clarke disconnects the call, and Lexa goes back to staring at her map. Unaware of how much time has passed, a soft knock at the door pulls her out of her trance.

She doesn't bother checking to see who it is. She knows it's Clarke.

“Are you okay?” she asks again as Lexa lets her in.

“I actually thought it would be worse.” Lexa goes into the living room and moves her pillows and blankets aside so they can sit on the couch. “I guess it's easier to deal with because I know he would have killed me. That part is easy, but then I think about his family. That part is hard.” Clarke isn't sure what to do. She's never been in this situation before, so she just lets Lexa get everything off her chest. “But how many families has he ruined? Dax's mom overdosed and died about a year ago. Maybe this guy was responsible for that.” She opens up WCVB's website on her phone and hands it to Clarke. The story includes the blurry picture from the night Lexa was stabbed. Its caption reads, “Hero or villain?”

“That's what bothers me the most, even though it probably shouldn't considering I just killed someone. Criminals are being sympathized with while the truth is being ignored all because I can't come forward.”

Clarke hands the phone back to Lexa and places her hand on the woman's thigh. “Do you want to go somewhere and pretend with me?”

That's when Lexa notices the little black dress Clarke is wearing. “I ruined a date, didn't I?”

Clarke smiles and stands, pulling Lexa's hand behind her. “You didn't ruin anything. Even if I want something normal in my life, I know that compromises have to be made sometimes.”

Lexa stops to pick up the map from the table as Clarke leads her by it and folds it up to put back in her pocket. “Do you want to go to the harbor? Sometimes they have live music.”

Clarke nods and continues pulling Lexa out of the apartment.  
~~~~~~~~~~~

Lexa doesn't say much as they walk around the boardwalk, but Clarke enjoys the music drifting out of bars as they pass them. “Why doesn't Molly's have live music?”

“Sometimes we do, but it's not really the kind of crowd we cater to.”

They come across a man playing street drums and stop to listen. Bending over to give the man a tip, someone pushes past her and knocks her into Lexa. 

“Hey,” Lexa shouts after them, but Clarke grabs her hand and leads her away.

“I don't need you to protect me.”

“I've seen the way you fight. Yes you do.”

They both laugh at that, and Clarke is happy that Lexa is able to take her mind off of everything else and relax. There's an empty table overlooking the water, and they rush to it before anyone else can snag it. 

“Do you want to play twenty questions?” Clarke asks as they sit. She smiles at the look Lexa gives her and clarifies. “The PG-13 version.”

“Is this what it would be like with us?” Lexa asks to get the game started.

“Have you not been on dates before?” Clarke answers with a question of her own.

“I have, but I think the circumstances were a little different then. It just seems a little mundane now, but I do still see the appeal of it.” 

“Mundane? It's supposed to be fun. I think you could use a little bit of that right now, don't you?”

Lexa nods. “Yeah.”

“Wait, how old are you?” Clarke's not sure what makes her think of it at this moment, but she realizes she doesn't know the answer. There's a lot they skipped over by jumping straight to sex.

“22. How old are you?”

“22.”

“And you're almost done with med school? Aren't you a little young?”

“Yeah, but I still have over a year left. I finished undergrad quicker than a lot of others, and I didn't take any time off after getting my Bachelors.” She can tell that impresses Lexa, and that makes her feel good. “What's your longterm goal with this?”

Lexa looks around them as she thinks about the question. Thinking back to their talk on the balcony, she wants to be more careful this time and make sure no one can overhear them. “It started out just wanting to get the drugs off the streets and to finish what my dad started. I don't think I really understood just what he was trying to do, and now it's turned into something a lot bigger than I thought it would be.”

She gets up and walks to the slat fencing surrounding the boardwalk. Clarke takes a moment to watch the way the breeze blows through Lexa's hair as she looks out over the dark water. She looks beautiful standing there, but Clarke's question has obviously upset her, and she feels bad about that. The whole point of coming here is to help Lexa.

Clarke joins her at the fence and rests her back against it. The breeze blows her hair around her face, but she ignores it and focuses on the woman standing next to her. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“Don't apologize. Things are going to be different now. I have to accept that.” They stand there quietly while Lexa collects her thoughts. “What's your longterm goal in this?” she finally asks.

“I was drawn to you that first time I saw you in the gym, and as silly as it sounds, I felt this connection to you. When I found out about you, all I wanted to do was help.”

“Most people's instincts would tell them to run away.”

“I'm not most people. I'm glad I didn't run, though. I need to know what's going on with my dad.” These questions are creating the exact opposite mood she wants, so she changes their direction. “Have you brought other girls here before?”

Lexa turns her head and grins at her. “Yeah.” Clarke can't help but to smile back. That answer should make her jealous, but it doesn't. “Do you want to talk about how your date was going before you left?”

“We were at this comedy club, and I was actually having a good time with him. Probably because conversation was kept at a minimum. Then that alert came through, and I told him I wasn't feeling great so I had an excuse to leave.”

“So other than, you know, talking to him, things are going good?”

Clarke lifts Lexa's hand away from the fence and squeezes into the space in front of her, forgetting all about the lines and boundaries. “Yeah.”

Lexa looks at her with confusion, but she doesn't try to move away. “What are you doing?”

“It's cold,” Clarke lies.

“It's 80 degrees out here, Clarke.”

“It's the wind. Have you seen what I'm wearing.” Lexa looks down to remind herself just how little Clarke's little black dress is, but there isn't much room to see. “Does talking about my dates really help take your mind off of other things?”

“I don't know. Listening to the music, smelling the food from the restaurants, standing here with you. It all helps. It's calming. Maybe I don't want to pretend anymore. You're right about wanting something more. I'm not sure what I'll become without moments like this.”

“You don't think a relationship will make you weaker? Isn't that what you vigilante types cling to?”

“It'll be a distraction, but I'm not sure that's a bad thing anymore. I don't know about a relationship, though. I just know I want more than make believe.” It's still not what Clarke wants, but it's a start, and she's okay with taking things slow. She takes both of Lexa's hands off the fence behind her and moves them to her hips to give Lexa encouragement to continue. “How many people have you slept with?”

Clarke knows why she's asking. She wants to know how far things have gone with Jackson, and Clarke smirks at the less than subtle way she has of asking. “Five. What do you really want to ask me?”

Lexa lets out a sigh of relief and rests her forehead on Clarke's. “If I asked you to stop dating him, would you?” she asks, repeating her question from her other game.

“Yes, but you have to ask.”

“Will you stop dating him?” She asks softly, and Clarke does her best to contain her excitement. It's not the time for that.

“Yes.” Clarke knows she isn't attracted to Jackson. He's a stand in for what she wants with Lexa, and that isn't fair to any of them. She closes the distance and places a tender kiss on Lexa's lips. It doesn't need to be more. Not right now. “Do you want to get out of here?” 

Lexa nods and pulls away but makes sure to keep contact with Clarke by taking her hand in her own. Neither one is sure what will happen with Dante's impending release, Bellamy's fight, or the investigation into Dark Justice, but Lexa wants to allow herself one night of thinking about anything other than that.


	7. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Thanks again for all of your feedback, and I hope you continue to enjoy it.
> 
> I created a Tumblr account, but I haven't used it much. You can follow me at http://its-greygoose.tumblr.com
> 
> I plan on posting sneak peaks for chapters there, and if you know of any good blogs, be sure to recommend them!

Sunlight shines through the blinds of the patio door and wakes Clarke up. The feel of Lexa's arm around her makes her smile despite her exhaustion. The couch is more comfortable than her own, but it still leaves a lot to be desired. She turns in Lexa's arms, and her movement wakes the other woman up. She offers Clarke a sleepy grin and pulls her closer.

“Our first full night together and we don't have sex. We do everything backwards,” Clarke says thickly, still trying to wake up. She knows she will regret the lack of sleep during her rounds, but she wouldn't trade last night for anything, not after spending several hours getting to know Lexa even better. 

Lexa chuckles but grimaces in pain when she tries to situate herself in a more comfortable position. 

“Are you okay?” Clarke asks as she rolls to the edge of the couch and forces Lexa onto her back.

“Yeah, I'm just sore.” Her voice catches in her throat when Clarke prods her hip. Sensing the pain Lexa is in, Clarke carefully begins massaging the area to check for signs of injury. She moves down Lexa's leg to her ankle and receives the same sharp intake of breath when she begins rotating her foot in a circle.

“It looks like you have a first degree hip sprain. Your ankle has a slight sprain too. You really should have let me check you over sooner. That's what I'm here for, isn't it?”

“Yeah, I know, but my ankle feels a lot better, and my hip just started hurting.” Lexa sits up and Clarke follows suit. They both stretch to try and work out the tightness sleeping on such an uncomfortable surface caused.

“Just take it easy, okay? No more jumping from second floors.” Clarke runs her fingers through her hair to try and untangle her hair. She grabs her dress from the back of the couch and points down to the softball jersey and shorts she let Lexa borrow weeks before. “I have to get ready for rounds. Do you want this stuff back?”

“It's yours. You can take it back if you want.” 

“Maybe I'll leave it here, just in case.” She gets up from the couch and passes Anya on her way to the bathroom. They exchange looks but no greetings, and Clarke hopes they didn't keep the woman up with their talking.

“How are you doing?” Clarke hears Anya ask Lexa as she closes the bathroom door behind her.

Anya eyes the couch looking for any evidence the two had sex on it. “I'm okay. You don't have to worry about the couch."

Anya takes the spot Clarke had been sitting in, leans into the back cushions, and studies Lexa. “I wasn't expecting company after hearing about O'Brien.”

“Having Clarke around helps.” She doesn't offer any other explanation.

Anya nods in understanding, but Lexa isn't sure she actually does. “You can always talk to me about anything.” Lexa stares straight ahead, not wanting to talk about it. “I found out some new information you might be interested in.” That grabs her attention, and Lexa turns to face Anya. “The new DA is looking into the Irish Mob investigation. Supposedly she doesn't think it's moving fast enough, or at all. I'm sure one of the crooks on the force has already informed whoever it is they need to. They'll be running a much cleaner operation now, but we could use this distraction to strike again.”

“Strike where? We don't know where they're operating out of. I can't keep going house to house and knocking the little guys out. Not with everyone being on such high alert with the DA and my fuck up at Bay Harbor.”

“Target the coke,” Anya says. “Not even a new DA will touch that yet, and the raids might have everyone's attention, but it'll be less so outside of South Boston.”

“You mean Beacon Hill or Back Bay? I don't give a shit about them. Rich people like that are the reason my dad got a life sentence. Jury of peers my ass. I'll go after the marijuana.”

Anya sighs and stands, frustrated at how short sighted Lexa still is. “And become even more scrutinized by the public? God forbid you kill someone else over some college kids smoking pot.”

That angers Lexa, and she jumps to her feet as quickly as her hip and ankle will allow her. “That was an accident, Anya.”

Clarke chooses that moment to come back into the living room with her black dress back on and her hair tied up out of her face. “I borrowed one of your hair ties,” she tells Lexa as she sets the folded up jersey and shorts on the arm of the couch.

That breaks the tension in the room, and the other two women visibly relax. 

“Those are actually Anya's. My shit is everywhere except where it's supposed to be,” Lexa informs Clarke.

“We're looking at other places later. My apartment isn't big enough for two people.”

“I'd much rather do that than spend the entire day at the hospital.” She walks around the room until she finds both of her heels and takes a seat at the table to put them on.

“Yeah, you should probably get going.”

Lexa cuts her gaze to Anya in annoyance.

“I can be late. What were you guys arguing about?” Clarke already knows, she had heard most of it from the bathroom, but she wants Anya to know she's involved in this too.

“She wants me to focus my attention on the rich neighborhoods. Like they don't get enough of that as it is,” Lexa answers and sits in the chair next to Clarke.

“And she wants to start a war over weed.”

“What about weapons?” Lexa asks. “Maybe I should start going after them."

Anya laughs and opens the blinds to let more sun into the apartment. “That's what got your dad locked up. You have a hard enough time with the drug busts. How are you going to handle a place full of things that can kill you?”

Lexa stands again, and the two start bickering. Clarke tunes them out while she tries to picture Anya's map. It takes her awhile, but it finally dawns on her. “What about widespread distribution?”

The other two stop arguing, and Anya thinks about it for a second. “Like a shipping yard?”

“Makes sense. You said agencies have been working this case for years. No way the mob has just been sitting on the goods. I'm sure they have some sort of presence in other cities,” Lexa puts in.

“Hang on,” Anya says and leaves the room. Lexa takes her seat next to Clarke again and gives her a soft smile as a silent thank you. It doesn't take long before Anya is back and pulling her bulletin board behind her. 

“Where do you hide that thing?” Lexa asks once Anya has it set up in front of the table.

“Under my bed.”

“Don't you think you should find a better place for it?”

Clarke laughs and can't help but think it's this way with them most of the time.

“Where else would it go in this apartment?” She moves on from the subject and points out all of the shipping yards on the map. None of them are marked with a thumbtack. “I think we need to look at other places.”

Clarke stands and studies the map. She recognizes some of the tacks as locations Lexa has taken out, but there are several different colors marking places she hasn't heard of before. “What do the different colors mean? Are these deliveries Bay Harbor Butchery makes?”

“Yeah. Most of them have checked out as legitimate meat deliveries.”

“Most? Figure out which locations they went to the most and you have your distribution link.”

Lexa looks at Clarke with a mix of pride and arousal, and it makes Clarke feel good. It makes her feel like she's contributing something other than first aid. 

“See. I told you it helps having her around,” Lexa beams.

“I can have a more accurate list in a few days.” 

Clarke nods and picks up her purse from the table. Lexa walks her to the door, but neither one leans in for a kiss. Clarke still isn't sure how fast Lexa wants things between them to move, so she doesn't push it. The night before and the little smiles Lexa gives her are enough for now.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Octavia rushes through the courthouse clutching documents that need to be filed for an upcoming trial her firm is taking on. She bumps into an older woman, and the paperwork scatters across the floor. As Octavia scrambles to pick up the papers, she looks up to apologize to the woman and has a small panic attack when she sees who it is.

“Oh my god. I'm so sorry, Ms. Palmer. I didn't see you there.”

The woman bends down and helps Octavia gather the rest of the documents. “It's okay, and please, call me Indra.”

They both stand, and Octavia shuffles the papers around in her hands until they are relatively neat again. “I can't remember the last time I saw the old District Attorney at the courthouse.”

“It's only been a few months, I'm still new to the scene. I like to make an appearances whenever possible to let the public know I'm actually doing work with this position.”

Other lawyers and citizens walk around them as they stand in the middle of the large foyer, but Octavia doesn't notice their annoyed glances. “I've read all about your involvement with the anti-gang and organized crime task forces. I think you'll do a lot of good for Boston.”

“That's the plan,” Indra responds cheerfully. Her phone begins to ring, and she looks down at the screen to see who's calling. “I'm sorry. I have to take this.” She gives a kind smile and makes her way to the doors while Octavia watches her go, starstruck.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Cage Wallace and another man stand in the middle of a newly renovated warehouse. A newly renovated warehouse Cage now owns. 

He runs his finger along the steel railing along the stairs and pulls it away to see how clean it is. There isn't a speck of dust or dirt. 

“I want to fast track the opening, or at least have a soft opening for the fight,” he says to the man standing behind him. “You know, my father always wanted to get into the nightclub business. He owned a few dive bars when he was younger, but this,” he gestures around him, “is on another level. I think he would love it. Hosting the fight will be the perfect welcome back gift.”

“The big fight ESPN Boston is writing about? With Bellamy Blake? Surely they already have a venue lined up.”

Cage turns to face the man and straightens his already straight tie. “Were there never any venue changes in New York?”

“Even with the recent rise in crime rate getting you a discounted price on this place, getting it up and running in just a few days won't be easy. Or cheap.”

Cage claps his hand over the man's shoulder. “Nothing good ever comes cheap.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

“This place is a shithole, Anya.”

Lexa and Anya stand in the tiny yard of a house in need of a complete overhaul. Most of the windows are boarded up. The paint on the paneling is chipped. The small set of steps leading up to the front door don't look safe enough to step on, and the chainlink fence that borders what should be a small backyard sags to the ground.

“This has been sitting on the market for months, and it meets all of our requirements. Privacy, number of rooms, and it has a basement.” Lexa still doesn't look sure as she stares up at the house. “And it's the only place we can afford. I even think I could get them to come down on the price some.”

“This is really all we can afford?” Lexa asks.

“I make decent enough money, and so do you, but you pay for Tris to go to school. That doesn't leave a lot to work with.” Anya can tell Lexa is about to say no, that they can keep looking at other places, so she tries to persuade her. “Hey, there's even a third room for when Tris comes to visit.”

Lexa's face falls, and Anya regrets bringing up her sister. “I doubt that's gonna happen anytime soon.” She's quiet for a minute while she thinks it over, but her face brightens again as she turns to Anya. “Can I get a dog?”

Anya smiles and is thankful her comment about Tris didn't completely sour Lexa's mood. “Yes, you can get a dog.”

“Then you can get started on the paperwork. I have a session scheduled at this new gym, so I won't be able to help you.”

They both turn back to the house and wonder if they can pull off being homeowners. Somehow, the thought of it is scarier than taking on the Irish Mob.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Clarke pulls a chart for yet another appendectomy case and goes over it. It says the same thing all of the others do, but she reads through it anyway. 

Jackson walks by the room she's in and pokes his head through the door when he sees her. Clarke places the chart back and stifles a groan. Her efforts to avoid the man are ruined now.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks as she joins him in the hallway. They maneuver themselves around nurses and doctors working on much more interesting cases than another appendectomy. 

“Yeah. It must have just been something I ate.” They walk quietly through the halls, and Clarke takes in the sounds and smells of the hospital. There's really nothing else like it, but she's not sure it's something she actually enjoys. She shakes those thoughts from her head and stops Jackson by grabbing ahold of his hand. The look of excitement on his face makes her feel guilty for what she's about to do. “Look, I don't think I can see you again.”

He looks down at his hand in hers for a moment but then takes a step back, pulling his hand free. “Is it because of that girl?”

“Yes.”

Jackson runs his hands over his face as if he's trying to wake himself up from a dream, but an intern crashing into the side of him brings him back to reality. The intern cusses at him before jogging away, and Jackson focus back on Clarke.

“I guess I should be angry. I mean, I never did have a chance did I?” He doesn't wait for Clarke to answer. “But I'm not. I get it. When you like someone, you like someone. My dad didn't want me to get distracted from school anyway.”

“We can still hang out, though. I did have fun with you.” She's lying, but she feels the need to offer him some comfort. 

“Yeah, maybe. There are a bunch of free concert series about to happen. Maybe we could all go to one together.”

Clarke pulls him into a hug and places a soft kiss on his cheek. Jackson really is a good guy, and maybe if they had anything in common she would feel worse than she does. She still wants the best for him, though. She backs away down the opposite side of the hall, careful not to run into anyone. “I'll see you around, Jackson.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

Savage Krav Maga is the most elite krav maga gym in Boston, and the only one on Lexa's list she has any interest in. She's not sure how she was able to secure a trial session with the owner, but she hopes she's able to impress him enough to earn a spot on his team.

She walks through the doors, and the emptiness of the gym is a little daunting. She's so used to Red Room Gym and the handful of boxers that are always present. A tall, bald man walks out of a back room carrying sparring pads and waits for Lexa to remove her shoes and socks to join him in the center of one of the mats.

“Hello, Lexa. I'm Tristan. I've looked over your resume, so to speak. You're highly trained and skilled in the art of boxing. Undefeated in the ring, although you only have a few fights under your belt. Your criminal record is concerning but not enough to rule you out.” He places the pads on his hands and continues, “I am strict. Some say too strict, but what I offer is world class training. I'm picky about who I let walk in through those doors, but if you're willing, I have a spot for you.”

This surprises Lexa and goes against everything she has heard about having to try out for a spot.

“We will begin with an evaluation, and I will recommend a belt level. You may have a background in boxing, but I believe you will only be proficient in upper body strikes and defenses.” He gets into his fighting stance and demonstrates the first move. “Elbow Five,” he calls out, and even with the pads, his movements are precise.

Lexa steps forward, turns her back to Tristan, and gets into her own fighting stance. She swings her right elbow back away from her body and up into the pad. She turns back around to see him nod in approval. “Palm heel strike.”

He doesn't demonstrate this move, but Lexa doesn't need him to. He holds the pad in front of his face, and she connects with enough force to knock him back a step. He regains his stance and calls out the next move, “Front kick with the ball of your foot.”

He holds the pad in front of his torso, and Lexa gets into what she thinks is the proper stance. She kicks out her foot, but her toes are pointed forward because of the tightness in her ankle. She holds back the grimace that threatens to escape as the pain makes its way up her leg.

This continues through several more moves. Some Lexa executes perfectly without demonstration. Some she fails at even with Tristan's instruction. With each failed move, Lexa becomes more and more frustrated, something her instructor can sense. 

He removes his pads and holds them under his arm. They both fall into a neutral stance, and Lexa does her best to catch her breath and to not let it show that she's in pain.

“We'll start you off as a yellow belt, but we will accelerate the curriculum. You did better than I thought you would.”

Lexa isn't sure whether to take that as a compliment or to be offended. She settles for something in the middle knowing that the session really could have gone much worse. 

“You need to commit to three times a week. I will work with you personally. We will talk about fights once you've moved up a few belts.”

“Why are you taking such an interest in me?” His interest makes her wary, but she realizes she sought him out, not the other way around.

“I take an interest in all of my fighters, but you have certainly grabbed my attention better than the others. I make it my business to know everyone I train and looking into you revealed who your father is. I've always hated how the media and the city treated him during his trial. Do you accept?” He extends his hand and waits for Lexa to take it.

She thinks it over. This gym has all of the decoration as Red Room, but none of the infamy, and she needs to be able to do more than just punch. Despite her taking on this mission to pick up where her dad left off, she wants to step out of his shadow and his influence over other people. She wants to earn Tristan's respect based on her own merits, not because he feels sorry for her dad. But then she thinks back to what he said about her doing better than he thought she would. It is a compliment, she's sure of that now.

She takes his hand in her own and forms another crucial partnership in her quest to make Boston a safer city.  
~~~~~~~~~~

“I knew you'd come around, Jake,” Delano says as he puts the pouch holding Jake's payment inside his jacket and zips it up. He opens the door to leave but stops and turns back to Jake sitting behind his desk. “One more thing. Bellamy's fight is going to be held at a new club opening up. It'll be a nice gift for Boss.”

“We only agreed on the old payment system. This wasn't part of the deal.”

Delano grins, and because he's such a large man, it's unsettling. “Consider this a payment.”

Jake watches him walk out of his office. He hates feeling helpless, but he knows there's nothing he can do about it.

Delano leaves the gym, and Gustus spots him from his car. He delays in getting out of the vehicle and watches the other man cross the street to his own car. It's too hot to be wearing a jacket, and they way he has it zipped up tells Gustus he's carrying a payment. 

Once Delano drives away, Gustus gets out of his car and goes into the gym. Jake is on his way out of his office when he sees his old friend, so he just turns back around and sits back down at his desk. Gustus enters and shuts the door behind him.

“He have anything to do with Lexa dropping out?” he asks as he takes a seat on the other side of the desk.

Jake knows lying is out of the question. “Yes.”

“I went out on a limb for you to help you go legit. I told the boss that the garage would see more business after gambling took a hit. Even when chopping dried up, it kept them off your back. All I ever asked was that you give Lexa a safe place and an outlet to deal with her anger over her dad.”

Jake sits there and takes it all in. There is no denying he felt a certain amount of resentment towards Lexa, but there's also no denying that he never truly did his part in helping her or Gustus. 

“You know, it took me awhile to recognize Clarke. You made sure to keep that part of your life hidden away, but it finally clicked,” Gustus continues. “You should really be more concerned with how you handle Lexa, though, because your daughter is involved now.”

“Is that a threat?”

Gustus shakes his head and stands. “I wouldn't threaten someone else's kid, but whatever happens to Lexa because of her being tossed aside like she was, it'll fall back on Clarke. You should prepare yourself for that.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

Another jab connects with her sparring dummy. Clarke is in a groove and finally feels like she's getting somewhere with her practice. Buying the dummy has made all the difference, and these past couple of days with it has really helped her form and power. She hears a knock at the door, and she wipes the sweat away from her brow as she answers it.

The first thing Lexa sees when she walks into the apartment is the picture Clarke picked out at Lincoln's gallery. It's hanging on the back wall behind her couch, and Lexa walks to it to get a better view. She sets the bag over her shoulder down on the ground and looks the black and white photograph over.

“It reminded me of you,” Clarke says from behind Lexa. Even after these past few days, she's still not sure what type of space Lexa wants.

“It's more than just me. It's you and Anya too.”

Clarke smiles and Lexa continues to stare at the picture. “Are you okay?”

“You don't need to ask me that every time you see me.”

“I know, but I probably will anyway.”

Lexa turns around to face her and rolls her eyes, but there isn't a hint of annoyance or frustration behind it. “Are you ready to start training?”

“Yeah. I don't have roof access like you did, but I've been practicing with him.” She points to her dummy.

“Show me.” She puts her hands up in front of her and waits for Clarke to strike them.

“Don't you need your sparring pads?” 

“I didn't need them before.”

Clarke shrugs her shoulders and throws out a jab. Her stance is nearly perfect, and she connects with a lot more power than before. Lexa shakes her hand in discomfort.

“And now the student becomes the master.” 

Lexa laughs at that and bends down to bring out her pads and a pair of sparring gloves from her bag. “You might be ready for the cross.” Clarke smiles excitedly, ready for the next phase of her training. “In another few days.” And then her smile fades. Lexa tosses the gloves to Clarke and waits for her to put them on. “If you're going to practice on your own, you need gloves. At least until you connect with the right part of your fist every time.” She holds out one of the pads and gestures for Clarke to punch it.

Clarke does so, and Lexa lowers the pad back down to her side. “Your guard isn't high enough. You need to raise your back fist to defend against any attacks.”Lexa holds the pad back up, and Clarke punches it again with her guard higher. “You're lunging. It'll throw off your balance, and that will lower your guard. When that happens, the fight is pretty much over.” She nods back at the pad, and Clarke punches it again. All the confidence from before is gone.

After several more jabs with each hand, Clarke takes a break and tries to catch her breath. “As much as I appreciate the training, when am I ever going to need to be able to do this stuff?”

“I want to keep you and Anya away from the fighting as much as possible. Hell, I want to stay away from the fighting as much as possible, but it doesn't hurt to know how to defend yourself.”

“So when can we start sparring for real?” Clarke asks before pulling at the velcro of her gloves with her teeth.

Lexa takes the hint that Clarke is done for the night and puts the pads back in her bag. “This thing with us is still new. I don't want to fuck it up by kicking your ass.”

Clarke throws one of the gloves at her playfully, but Lexa is able to catch it with a chuckle. 

“Are you hungry?” Clarke asks as she hands the other glove to her.

Lexa puts the gloves back in the bag along with the pads and throws the strap over her shoulder. “We could get Chinese. Unless you're mad at me.”

Clarke bumps her shoulder, loving the banter. “Not yet, but I want to show you my Boston. You need to see it through someone else's eyes.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

Theo Jaha types away at his computer when an aide pokes his head into his office. “You should get going, sir. It's late. I can take care of whatever else needs to be done.”

“It'll only be a few more minutes. This Ms. Palmer has really made a mess of everything. The amount of emails I've received over the last few months with concerns and hopes of what she'll accomplish as the district attorney are too much to keep up with.”

He powers down his computer and leaves the rest for another time. He should have been out of the office hours ago, but news of her meddling into the Irish Mob has kept him here longer than he wants. He wonders if this is just a power move or if there's any bite to her bark, but the fact that she didn't come directly to him with her concerns angers him more than anything.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Melted cheese stretches from the burger, and Lexa has to break the string with her fingers before it does so on its own and gets on her face. She wipes her hands and takes a sip from her soda after swallowing down the bite.

“Is it good?” Clarke asks from the other side of the table. She dips a fry into some ketchup and pops it in her mouth.

“It's okay.” It is good, but Lexa doesn't want to admit that.

“It's good,” Clarke does it for her. “This is where my dad met my mom. At least according to him. I'm not sure I've ever seen my mom eat a hamburger.”

“You don't talk about your mom much.” It's more of an observation than anything, but she wants to put it out there that it's a subject she doesn't mind talking about.

“She had an affair with Marcus Kane, the deputy mayor. I haven't really spoken to her since.” She lets out a bitter laugh and continues. “Everything I've done with my life has been about pleasing her, and she betrayed us. I took college classes in high school while I should have been hanging out with friends. I rushed through undergrad and finished even quicker by taking summer and winter courses. I'll be 23 soon and done with med school while other people my age are just starting. My whole life has been dedicated to this course I'm on, and I still have an internship, residency, and probably a fellowship. I'm still not sure this even what I want.”

“You said you like art.” She reaches over and snags a fry off of Clarke's plate. For some reason, they look better than her own.

“That's just a hobby. I could never make a living doing that.”

“So then what else would you want to do? There has to be something.”

Clarke takes a bite from her burger and thinks about it for a minute. “I've been thinking that something like community organizing could be interesting. You know, the whole power for the powerless thing. I feel like I could do a lot of good in that area.”

“You don't think you could do good as a doctor? You've already done some good by saving me.”

“I feel like I'd be earning a paycheck. I could still help with your injuries, but I don't need to be a doctor to do that. I didn't bring you here to talk about my mom or my future, though.” She motions to the restaurant around them. There is an old couple enjoying a milkshake two booths behind them, a father and son pair splitting a basket of chili cheese fries across the room, and a young couple on what appears to be a first date. “These people are the same as those in South Boston, they just happen to live in a richer neighborhood. Don't you think they deserve your help too?”

Lexa looks around the room again, and the little boy waves at her with an innocence that reminds her of Tris when she was younger. Clarke is right. They deserve justice just as much as those she cares about.  
~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you want to come in?” The drive home had been nice, but Clarke is eager to extend their night. She still wants Lexa to be in control of how fast things between them move, but that doesn't mean she can't stoke the fire a little bit. 

“Sure,” Lexa agrees, and Clarke does her best to keep her face neutral.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” Clarke asks as they enter her apartment. Lexa nods and follows the woman into the kitchen to wait for the beverage. Clarke pours her a glass and hands it over. 

Scrunching up her face in disgust after taking a sip, Lexa hands it back. “I don't like that.”

Clarke takes the glass back and drinks it herself. She sets the glass in the sink and looks down at her workout clothes. “I'm such a mess. I should get cleaned up.”

“Not yet.” Clarke isn't expecting to be pushed up against the counter, but she doesn't protest when she feels Lexa's lips press into her own. She tugs at her shirt to bring her closer, and Clarke gasps into her mouth when she feels a leg slip in between hers. 

Lexa nips at her bottom lip, and as nice as the friction between her legs is, Clarke needs more. She pushes her away and grabs her hand to lead her to the bedroom. 

Lexa pulls off Clarke's shirt on the way and throws it down the hall. Clarke giggles and pulls away from another searing kiss once they reach her room. She unhooks her bra and lets it fall from her shoulders down to the floor. Then she peels off her yoga pants and pushes herself up to the head of the bed. Lexa joins her, and Clarke pulls her on top and between her legs again. 

Lexa pushes her hips into Clarke's, and Clarke grabs at her back to bring her closer. She groans at the loss of contact when Lexa sits up and runs her fingers down Clarke's thighs before removing her shirt.

As she leans back down, Clarke puts her hand on Lexa's chest to stop her. “Does it bother you how fast I come with you?”

“Why would something like that bother me?” Lexa tries to lean down again, but Clarke's hand stays put.

“I've just never really been this way with others.”

“I don't need to hear about your sex life with other people.”

“I know. I just...it wasn't bad sex, so I don't get it. I've been practicing and hoping that would help.”

That piques Lexa's interest, and she rolls off the top of Clarke to lay beside her. “Practicing how.”

Clarke reaches for the drawer of her bedside table and pulls out a pink vibrator. “By using this.”

“Show me.” It's the second time she's asked Clarke to show her something, but this time it turns her on much more.

“Okay, but you aren't allowed to touch.”

Lexa puts her hands up to show her that she'll keep them to herself, and Clarke lifts her hips to remove her panties. She drops them on the floor beside the bed and looks at Lexa as she begins to rub slow circles over her clit with her fingers. She smiles when she sees Lexa's eyes cloud over with lust, and she turns on the vibrator and runs it through her wetness. She holds it over her sensitive bud, and then slides it down her slit to tease her opening. 

“What do you think about when you do this?” Lexa asks with a hushed voiced.

“That it's you making me feel this way.” She's breathless, but she manages to answer as she slides the toy inside of her, muffling the sounds of the vibrations. She uses her other hand to continue rubbing circles over clit and pulls the vibrator out before sinking it back in. Lexa loses control and trails a finger down Clarke's arm. “You aren't supposed to be touching me.”

“I can't help it.” She runs her finger back up Clarke's arm and watches as her eyes cloud over with lust too. She gyrates her hips over the vibrator, and turns up the intensity setting. She can feel the orgasm building and is almost sent over the edge when Lexa begins to roll one of Clarke's nipples between her fingers. “I want to help,” she whispers into Clarke's ear.

Clarke continues to thrust the toy inside of her, but she uses her other hand to pull Lexa in for a kiss. She runs her tongue over Clarke's lips and deepens it. She can taste the mint Clarke had after their burger, and it turns her on even more. She takes over pushing the vibrator into Clarke, and Clarke spreads her legs wider to allow it to go deeper. 

She pulls Lexa on top of her and clutches at Lexa's arm as it thrusts the toy forward. “Wait,” she moans. “Take it out.”

Lexa does as she's told without hesitation, and the abrupt change leaves Clarke wanting more. She can feel her wetness running down her thighs, and she hooks her ankles around Lexa's back. “I want you inside me.” She takes the vibrator from Lexa, sets it aside, and guides her hand down between their bodies. Both of them forget about the toy on the bed as Lexa enters her. It vibrates next to them, but neither one cares as Lexa curls her fingers inside of Clarke and presses her palm into Clarke's clit. 

Lexa's breath tickles her ear, and it doesn't take long before she's jerking against Lexa's hand, riding out an orgasm. 

Lexa places kisses down Clarke's neck as she recovers. “God, what a turnoff,” she says as she curls her fingers again. Clarke jerks her hips forward one last time and grabs Lexa's wrist to keep her still while the sensitivity wears off.

The vibrator still vibrates next to them, and just as Clarke reaches to turn it off, Lexa's phone rings from the other room. She debates letting it go to voicemail, but she's glad she didn't when she sees Anya's name and picture on the screen. 

“Hello?” She knows her voice is still thick with arousal, but she doesn't care.

“I have the list of most frequent drop offs for Baby Harbor Butcher. We should go over it.” Anya doesn't wait for a response and hangs up.

Lexa turns to see Clarke standing behind her, pulling a shirt over her head. “Do you want to go to Anya's? She has the list you wanted.”

“I don't want to interfere with what you guys have going on.” She tosses Lexa's shirt to her, but she doesn't put it on. 

“You're just as much a part of this team as we are, but we should really get cleaned up first.”

Clarke grins and pulls her shirt back off.  
~~~~~~~~~~

One shower later and both women are walking into Anya's apartment. Lexa can see that she's trying to hide it, but her friend is obviously annoyed with how late they are. 

“Two moving companies and a cleaning supplies company are the most frequent runs. They alternate them weekly.”

“Moving and cleaning supplies companies? How did something like that go unnoticed?” Lexa asks in disbelief.

“It didn't, but there is a paper trail of actual purchases these companies have made with Bay Harbor Butchery. They weren't looked into very deeply.”

“Yeah, no shit. I'll check them all out.”

Clarke is about to speak up when Anya interrupts her. “Not with the current getup you use.” She goes to the couch to grab a few bags and takes them to the table. “I got you some kevlar combat gloves that should actually fit.” Then she pulls out a black half ski mask, an old police bullet proof vest, and a black tactical hoodie.

“It's hard for me to breathe in a ski mask. I've tried it,” Lexa says as she inspects everything on the table.

“You better figure it out. That warpaint, or whatever it is, isn't enough. The hoodie has pockets for you to keep your pick set and whatever else in, and it shouldn't rip like your other one did. You'll have to forget about the bleach or anything else you need to carry in a bag. I'm still working on something that is safe enough to carry.”

Clarke stands to the side and lets Lexa look over her new gifts. She looks like a kid at Christmas, but there are still pressing matters to discuss. “So what's the plan?”

Lexa turns as she pulls at the hoodie to test the durability of the material. “If Bellamy's fight is as important as we think it is, then I strike then. Most of the top guys will be at that, and they may not be expecting a hit.”

It's as good of a plan as any, but it still worries Clarke. The new equipment should help, but Bellamy's fight is only a few days away. She's not sure any of them are ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, this chapter was a bit rushed. Had to meet deadlines!


	8. Brighter Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen it yet, please be sure to check out the awesome edit haelstorm did on tumblr:
> 
> http://haelstorm.tumblr.com/post/120540478663/angels-with-dirty-faces-by-its-greygoose-the
> 
> I love that something I wrote inspired you to create that. Thank you to everyone else for your continued interest, and I hope I'm able to keep that going for you!

Boston sees its fair share of notable news stories in any given year. Bombings, murders, and all kinds of illegal activity dominate the media, but one man is responsible, either directly or indirectly, for a lot of it. That man sits in the back of a town car driving through the gates of the prison he has spent many years in. He wears the same suit he went in with. It fits him more loosely now thanks to the weight loss he suffered due to his lack of appetite while inside. His hair is whiter, and he has more wrinkles, but Dante Wallace is as recognizable as the day he went in. Thus the need for a town car with tinted windows.

His time for the press will come, but all he wants now is some peace and quiet away from the media frenzy. 

“You have a press conference in three hours and the opening of High Point Lounge to host Bellamy Blake's fight tonight,” Cage says and breaks the silence Dante had been enjoying. Silence is hard to come by in prison, and it appears it's just as hard to come by in the company of his son.

“I want to go over business affairs in the near future. Assets you've acquired and the ways you acquired them,” he responds. If his quiet time is going to be ruined, they will at least talk about the important things.

“We can go over that now. Other than the club, I've purchased a few apartment complexes and empty lots around the city. High Point was a steal. South Boston is a real buyer's market right now.”

Dante looks out the window as they slowly drive past the line of news vans. Some reporters are brave enough to bang on his window and scream for a comment. “And you wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?”

Cage smiles but doesn't confirm or deny the accusation. “I've also reinstated past business partnerships. Delano has been very helpful with that.”

“I don't want anything to do with it if it isn't legit. I'm done with that life, and you should be too.”

Cage's smile fades, and his anger bubbles under the surface. “I've worked for everything I have. You left your family with nothing when your assets were frozen and you went to prison. What isn't legitimate about working hard for a family you abandoned?”

Dante turns away from the window and studies his son. He's no longer the inexperienced young man he was when Dante started his sentence. He has come into his own, and Dante is proud that he never gave up. 

“I'm willing to be involved at a minimum. For now. I want an exit plan for both of us sooner rather than later. Is that understood?” It isn't a concession he wants to make, but it's important to his son, so it is important to him.

“Exit plan. Got it.” Cage leans back into his seat as the car passes the last few news crews and picks up speed. Dante continues to watch him, not sure if his son actually does get it. The life of a mob boss is addicting. That might not be something Cage is willing to give up.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Clarke and Lexa sit next to each other on the couch while Anya sits on a chair pulled over from the table. There is enough room on the couch for the two of them to spread out, but both are content with their close proximity. Their legs rest against each other's, and Clarke is happy to have the contact. They haven't seen much of each other since their last night together.

She turns to face Anya better and brings her leg up onto the couch. The movement causes their legs to be more firmly pressed together, but Lexa still doesn't seem to mind. “So I'll be at the club helping with the fight, and I'll be keeping an eye out for the top guys like Dante, Cage, and Delano. I'll make note of anyone else with them.”

“And I'll be on patrol listening to my radio for any activity where Lexa might be.”

Like Clarke, Lexa turns more towards Anya. It pulls her leg away from Clarke's, but she puts her arm behind Clarke's back and leans her weight into it. “I think I have it narrowed down to one of the moving companies. Listen for anything dealing with Colony Moving. I'll go in and take out as many guys as I can. Hopefully I won't run into the same problem as I did at Bay Harbor Butchery.” She doesn't mention O'Brien, but there's no question that's what she means. “I'll try not to destroy any evidence I find.”

“You'll need to move fast. They'll probably have alarms and a security system in place. Use this phone to call WCVB's tip line when you're a safe enough distance away.” Anya stands, pulls out a small black phone from her pocket, and hands it to Lexa. “The number is programmed under '1'. If someone from the news is there, there's less of a chance this gets covered up or twisted like Bay Harbor did.”

Lexa sets the phone on the couch and stands. “Give me a few minutes.”

She leaves the room, and for a brief moment, Clarke panics. It's a ridiculous feeling being intimated by Anya, but she's older and seems to have her shit together while Clarke still wanders if med school is the right choice for her. 

“Will you be anywhere close to Colony Moving tonight?”

Anya shakes her head. “It's not in the area I patrol. It shouldn't take me long to respond if I need to, though.”

“It's just...after last time, I'm worried about her.”

“Me too.”

Two simple words and the intimidation Clarke feels is gone. They may not have much else in common, but at least they have that.

“Okay, I wanted to show you guys all of this,” Lexa says as she enters the room again. She pulls up her ski mask and covers the bottom half of her face. She pulls the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and pulls the strings to tighten it. The hoodie fits snuggly because of the bullet proof vest underneath. The slim fitting black cargo pants and gloves are the only things that appear to fit her comfortably. “I can't breath through this thing.” She tugs at the mask around her mouth before she continues, “and this barely fits over the vest.” This time she pulls at the material of the sweatshirt, trying to stretch it out.

“You'll have to make do with it tonight.”

“I know, Anya, but I need something better for anything longterm. I love all of this stuff individually, but they don't really work together.”

“I think I might know someone that could help with that,” Clarke suggests. She'll take one for the team if she needs to. 

Her phone beeps, and she sees that there is an alert. Dante's press conference is starting. She grabs the remote, turns on the TV, and punches in WCVB's channel number. 

Mayor Jaha stands in front of High Point Lounge finishing up his speech. “It's a new day in Boston, and I hope we are all able to usher in positive change. Starting with this man, Dante Wallace.”

There is light applause from people in the street as Dante steps up to the podium. “Thank you Mayor Jaha, and thank you Bostonians for taking time out of your day to be with me. I know I've been responsible for many of the city's low points over the years, so I think it's fitting I'm holding this here in front of what I hope symbolizes Boston's march forward. I want to make amends for my past. I want to be responsible for a few of the city's high points going forward, so for those of you that would like to welcome me back, I invite you to Bellamy Blake's big fight tonight. I hear this kid has a great future in store for him and is a bright spot for Boston. I want to mingle with my fellow citizens. I want to be part of the city, not someone that divides it, and I can't think of a better way to kick that off.” 

Clarke switches off the TV in disgust. “Do you think Bellamy is involved now?” The thought scares her. She still doesn't know him very well, but that doesn't stop her from worrying.

“No way. Bellamy is too straight-laced for that,” Lexa says from the hallway, most of her Dark Justice attire piled up at her feet. 

Clarke gathers her belongings and stands. “I need to go. I have a few things to take care of before the fight.”

Lexa walks her to the door and opens it for her. “Be careful tonight.” She pulls Clarke closer and places a soft kiss on her lips. Everything about wanting to tell Lexa she needs to be the one being careful is forgotten in that moment as she savors the feeling of Lexa's lips on her own. They pull away, and Clarke backs out of the doorway so that the moment doesn't entirely end. Lexa looks at her with an expression Clarke can't quite read, but it reassures her that everything will be okay. 

Lexa closes the door once Clarke is out of sight and turns to find Anya watching her. “Don't give me that look. I've already apologized a hundred times for keeping you waiting the other night. I don't need you mad at me right now.”

“I'm not mad that you found someone,” Anya responds before picking up Lexa's things from the hallway. She sets them on the counter and turns to rest her back against it. “You know, when I first got out of the academy, I was given the best advice from this veteran cop. I thought he was one of those creeps that harasses all the women on the force when he first came up to me, but I was wrong. He told me to make sure I had something to go home to. A life on the outside. It's easy to fall down a rabbit hole in this world, so I understand this is something you need. I just don't want you to lose focus. You can't afford any other mistakes.”

“Lack of focus didn't cause what happened at Bay Harbor, and lack of focus because of Clarke definitely isn't an issue. I can separate my personal life from this.”

“I hope so.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

It takes everything in Clarke to not turn around and leave the building, but this is a visit she has to make. Raven rounds the corner down the hall and smiles when she sees Clarke.

“You're the last person I expected to see a text from,” Raven says as she joins Clarke in the foyer of the engineering building. 

“Do you have somewhere private we can talk?” Clarke responds in a rush. She doesn't have time for small talk.

“We can use one of the study rooms.” Raven leads her down the hall she just came from and closes the door behind them as they enter the small room.

“Can you make a durable suit?” It isn't a lot of information to go off of, but the less Raven knows, the better.

“What kind of suit?” Raven asks in confusion. It isn't the first time Clarke has asked her for a random favor, but there was usually more context than she's getting now.

“It just needs to be tactical and able to withstand some damage.”

Now Raven is concerned. There are random and off the wall favors, and then there are worrisome favors. This is one of those.

“Why do you need something like that?”

“Are you able to do it or not?” Clarke is close to admitting defeat and leaving, but this is important, and she doesn't know who else to ask.

“You know I work in mechanics, not materials.” Raven wants to help, if only to keep her friend out of trouble, but she knows her limitations and working with materials is near the top of that list.

“Not too long ago you said you wanted a fresh start. If you can do this for me and keep quiet about it, you'll get that chance.”

This conversation wouldn't be happening under any other circumstance, and she certainly wouldn't be making that offer, but it's something that needs to be done. If Lexa needs proper attire to keep her safe then Clarke will offer Raven anything she wants. 

She nudges her way past Raven and opens the door. The offer is out there. If Raven is able to deliver, she'll reach out to her. There's no sense in sticking around now.

Raven places her hand on Clarke's arm to stop her. “I'll be at the fight tonight. Finn will be there too. I just thought you should have a heads up in case you're there.”

“Just have an answer for me as soon as possible.” The offer is bad enough without the reminder of why a fresh start is even on the table. She pulls her arm away from Raven's touch and leaves the room before her old friend can say anything else.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Standing in the center of the ring, Jake slowly turns in a circle to take in everything about the club. There are a few couches scattered around the first floor, but folding chairs mostly fill the area. An alcove on the far side of the warehouse, across the room from the bar, contains what Jake assumes is the VIP section. The second floor must contain something similar for those important enough to warrant the separation. He can't imagine someone like Dante mingling with commoners, even in the VIP section.

High Point is out of place in this neighborhood, but maybe that's the point. It doesn't sit well with Jake that he is forced to have Bellamy's fight here. His boxers have gotten mixed up with the mob in the past, but Jake doesn't want that for his prize fighter. It's hard making an honest living as a boxer in Boston, he knows that first hand, so he hopes Bellamy doesn't bite at this undeniable selling point. 

The young man in question walks out of one of the bathrooms serving as a dressing room for the night and climbs into the ring with Jake. He doesn't look over everything like Jake did. He doesn't care, and that comforts Jake.

“How did something like this come together so quickly?” Bellamy asks and leans onto the top rope facing the bar. “A couple of weeks ago this was an abandoned warehouse. How were they even able to get a liquor license in that amount of time? What am I getting involved with here?”

“You aren't getting involved in anything. An offer was made to have your fight moved here for its grand opening. You're a hot commodity these day. You should be thankful for that. It's not something most boxers will ever experience.” Jake doesn't approach the topic of liquor licenses or permits to open as quickly as they are. Any city government connection would expedite that, and with the mayor's recent public adoration of Dante, Jake is sure the process was expedited much more quickly.

“I don't mind the attention. I don't really care one way or the other. I just don't want it to be coming at a cost. I don't want to owe anyone any favors.”

“There's the man of the hour.” Both men turn to the front of the club and see Cage walking in through the large double doors. He makes his way to the edge of the ring and sweeps his arms around the club, clearly proud of how it turned out. “This is the biggest fight of your career thus far. It's only fitting it takes place somewhere generating as much buzz. The design isn't final, of course, but there's only so much you can do with a boxing ring in the middle of your club.”

Jake and Bellamy walk over to the set of ropes above Cage and peer down at the man. It's a strange position for Jake to be in. He's sure Cage isn't used to anyone looking down at him, figuratively or not.

“Casper Holloway was the it-boy several years ago. He might be older, but he's on a winning streak, and he can still pack a punch.” Bellamy is aware of all of this and is a little insulted Cage feels the need to go over it with him. “Give the crowd something to cheer for. Keep them entertained.”

The way he says it makes Bellamy think Cage wants him to extend the fight longer than might be necessary, and that doesn't sit well with him at all. “People at my fights are always entertained.”

Cage smirks and pulls on each of his suit jacket's sleeves to smooth out any wrinkles in the fabric. “Do you know why they call your gym Red Room?”

“I've heard a few stories, but I'm not sure any of them are true.”

Jake looks down at his hands to appear unfocused and uninterested in the conversation, but he knows what's about to happen.

“It's probably best to save that for another day. You have more important things to focus on. Jake can fill you in on the details, can't you Jake?”

Jake looks up from his hands and glares down at Cage. “You're right. He has more important things to worry about than the name of a gym.”

Bellamy backs away from his mentor and switches his glance between the two men. Despite what Jake says, Bellamy knows he's being dragged into something he doesn't want to be dragged into.  
~~~~~~~~~~

The last few rays of the sun are long gone, and Lexa sits in her car while the broadcast of Bellamy's fight plays on the radio. The fight hasn't started yet, but according to the announcers Mayor Jaha, Dante, and Cage are all in attendance. There are others, but Lexa drowns out their names as she mentally prepares herself for what might be waiting for her. 

The bell to start the fight registers with her, and she gets out of the car and puts her keys in one of the pockets of her new hoodie. She looks at her reflection in the window and realizes just how different she looks with the new gear. It's more obvious out here in the darkness than in Anya's apartment.

She backs away from her car and slides up against one of the buildings lining the street. This area is better lit than it is around Bay Harbor Butchery, but there are still shadows she can stick to. Colony Moving comes into view, and she makes her way around to the back. She looks through the chainlink fence and finds three moving trucks backed up against a large garage door. There are personal cars parked across the lot, so Lexa knows she will have company but most concerning are the cameras mounted to the building monitoring the yard.

She moves behind the corner of the building as one of the cameras makes another sweep to her position. Pulling her pick set from another pocket in her hoodie, she lets a few seconds pass as she selects a miniature pair of wire cutters from her kit and waits for the camera to swing back in the other direction. She pokes her head around the corner and sees that the camera is no longer focused on the fence. She rolls up her pick set and puts it back in her pocket before she gets started on the fence.

Just a few snips down the length of the fence is all she needs to create a big enough hole for her to step through. The cameras all have different timings, so she has to move quickly to avoid being seen. She's not ready for them to know she's here yet. She's able to get between two of the trucks without any of the cameras picking her up. 

Before pulling out her pick set again, she puts her wire cutters in her pocket along with her keys. She fumbles with the set as she tries to select the right tools. Deciding which picks would be best, she puts the set away and takes several seconds to work on the lock at the back of the truck. Rolling the door up reveals the back to be empty. Time is valuable here, so it annoys her that they locked an empty vehicle. From this position, though, she can see that the garage door has a keypad by it like the butcher shop did. There's a door next to the garage that has the same device, so getting in will be an issue, and waiting for someone to come out isn't an option.

She goes back to the passenger side door and picks its lock with much more ease than the one at the back. Climbing inside, she ducks into the floorboard and reaches over to the steering column. Thankfully this truck is as old as her Mustang, so hot wiring won't be an issue. The cover on the column has been removed once before, so all it takes is a swift knock to get it loose. She finds the wires she needs and thinks back to Penn's joyriding days. It only took one time for Lexa to realize that wasn't for her, but the method of getting the car started is still fresh in her mind. Having an uncle that works at a garage also helps with that.

It doesn't take her long to strip the wires with her wire cutters, and she puts all of her tools away before jumping into the driver's seat to get the truck started. She may not have a bag to worry about anymore, but the constant switching of tools is time consuming and inconvenient. She makes a mental note to let Anya know.

No longer worried about the cameras, Lexa puts the truck into drive and pulls up several feet. She puts it into reverse and slams her foot down onto the gas pedal, sending the truck racing towards the garage door. The truck collides with enough force to jerk her forward, but the door doesn't budge. 

She pulls forward once more and slams into the garage again. This time the door bends and creates enough separation that she's confident she can get through it. If this isn't the drug distribution center, she's going to feel bad about all the destruction of property, but the five men streaming out of the other door, guns drawn, prove she picked the right location.

The men start firing as they approach the truck. She falls down into the seat and hopes her vest is actually bullet proof as glass rains down around her. She can hear the orders being given. Two men at the front. Two men to the driver's side. One man to the passenger's side. Them splitting up works in her favor. The man assigned to the passenger side gets there first, and Lexa pivots in the seat so she can open the door and slam it into his face. She drops down from the truck and slams the door closed so she can grab her attacker. She's able to knock his gun away with ease, and she kicks it under the other truck next to them. Turning the man in her arms, she puts him in a chokehold and uses him as a shield as the men from the front of the truck run around to the side and start firing. She isn't worried about the other two men coming at her from behind because the truck blocks their path. 

The man in her arms is already starting to lose consciousness when a bullet strikes him in the thigh. Other bullets ricochet off the trucks, and the men shooting cease fire as they realize they may be doing more harm than good. The first two men get close enough to her for her to throw the dying man into them. The other two are closing in behind them as they struggle to get around the injured man.

Lexa falls to the ground and rolls under the other truck. She picks up the gun on the way to the other side and empties the bullets onto the ground before making sure the chamber is empty. The gun could be useful as a weapon later, so she doesn't discard it. 

She needs to work faster. They are in a business district, but the amount of gunfire has surely been heard. The four remaining men race around the front of the truck she rolled under and fire more shots. The danger they are putting themselves in forgotten.

She drops to the ground and rolls back under the truck. The keycard belonging to the downed man hangs from one of his belt loops, and she pulls it free not knowing if it will be needed later. She tucks it away in the back pocket of her cargo pants for safekeeping. Once again, the other men run around the front of the truck. They have to be getting annoyed, but they aren't being very smart. There's no effort being made to corner Lexa, and while one truck is backed into the garage, there is still room around the others for them to split up. The amount of ammo they have is also an issue as they've wasted quite a bit and only managed to shoot one of their own.

This time she rolls under the truck she rammed into the door and hurries through the opening she created. She thinks she has enough time to make it through, but as she's pulling her back leg through, a bullet punches a hole into the brick of the building beside her.

She hurries through the rest of the way and moves out of the opening's line of sight. The door is ruined, so they won't be able to get it open, and the hole isn't big enough for them to crawl through with as much ease as she had been able to. That leaves the other door.

She maneuvers around two other parked trucks and their contents and makes it to the door just in time to meet the first man. She slams the butt of the gun into his face, breaking his nose and sending blood flying. He drops his own gun to the ground and stumbles back into the men on his tail. Lexa closes the door behind him and starts banging the keypad on her side of the door with the gun. She's not sure it will do any good, but she continues until it's smashed into pieces.

“Fuck,” she hears one of the men shout from the other side as they ram into the door. Now she has some time to work with, and she goes back to the two trucks and the various items scattered around them.

It's clear to her that they are using the trucks to get the drugs out of the city and perhaps out of the state, so she looks around for anything that might hide the substances. She sees furniture wrap in the corner of the garage and goes to a couch sitting in front of one of the trucks. She throws her gun across the room, her need for it gone, and takes out her wire cutters again. She slices through the plastic and pulls it away from the couch. 

The cushions are the first place she starts, and she removes one to unzip it. The sight of cocaine bags stuffed under the foam greets her and she begins removing them as the first shot is fired through the hole in the garage door. The banging at the other door continues, and she hurries to remove all of the bags. 

She starts throwing the bags around the garage to make it harder for them to clean up if they are given the chance, and she looks around the truck to find the man firing his gun trying to shimmy through the opening. He isn't going anywhere fast, so she starts on the next cushion. Much like the first, bags of cocaine lay under the foam. 

More shots are fired into the garage. Some of them pierce through the side of the truck she is working behind, but none of them are close enough to worry her. Then she hears the man's gun start to click. She throws the last bag of coke from the cushion across the room and rounds the back of the truck.

The man is halfway inside the garage at this point, but he's vulnerable to attack. She juts the palm of her hand out and into his face before grabbing him by the hair and slamming the back of his head into the wall behind him. Two times is all it takes to knock him out, and he slumps against the door blocking anyone else from coming in.

The banging at the other door stops. The remaining men must be going around to the front of the building to get in that way. She rushes back to the couch and removes the last cushion and scatters those packages around the garage as well. She saves one and cuts through the bag to dump it on top of the couch. Her promise of not ruining evidence is out the window, but cleaning up powder is harder than picking up bags.

The door at the front of the garage opens, and Lexa jumps into the back of one of the trucks and pulls the door closed. Darkness surrounds her, but it doesn't take long for light to shine through the bullet holes puncturing the truck door.

There's a set of golf clubs at the front of the truck, and Lexa starts climbing over furniture and other household items to get to them. She pulls a nine iron free and crouches behind some furniture to block the shots flying around her.

“Take care of them. I need to reload,” one of the men shouts over the gunfire. A few more shots are fired off, and Lexa begins to wonder just how many bullets they have. The shots stop, though, and the door starts to open. She takes this opportunity to climb back over everything, and just as the door reaches its halfway point, Lexa kicks the man back. She drops the club on the edge of the truck where she can reach it and ducks underneath the door. 

She grabs the man's gun holding hand, pulls him to her, pivots, and delivers a perfect back elbow. It's a move she's been practicing and landing it in a real situation like this sends more adrenaline rushing through her. She knees his hand until he drops the gun, and then delivers another hard knee to the face. He drops to the floor, and Lexa picks up her club from the truck. 

The other man stands at a table across the garage and almost has his gun reloaded. He throws quick glances over his shoulder as he fumbles with the cartridge, but before he's able to turn again, Lexa swings the club and connects with the back of his head. 

He drops the gun to the table and collapses on top of it. There is no sign of the man with the broken nose which means he's gone and probably already called for backup or cleanup. 

Lexa doesn't worry about finding more drugs to expose. Instead, she finds zip ties on the table next to the injured man and begins the process of tying everyone up. One escaping is too much, she doesn't need anyone else getting away.

She pushes the man slumped against the door out of the opening and crawls back through it. She ties his feet and hands together with the ties before making her way to the man that had been shot. She reaches down and places her hand on his chest. There is no movement. If he's breathing, it's shallow. Knowing that he's probably dead, and there's nothing she can do about it, Lexa runs back for the fence. She pushes her way through the snipped links and falls against the building to rest. She pulls out the burner phone from Anya and hits one on the speed dial. 

It rings three times before a young woman picks up. “WCVB tip line. What story do you have for us?”

“I just heard several gun shots at Colony Moving in South End. I think the cops are on the way too.” She talks with a higher pitched voice trying to distort it. She wants to come off as a concerned citizen, not as someone that is responsible for the gunfire. 

“Okay, ma'am, what is your name?”

“Charlotte. Please send someone quick.” She hangs up the phone before the woman can ask her anything else and runs back down the street to her car.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Bellamy collapses onto his stool and blood trickles down his face from his split brow. Casper is a much more worthy opponent than Atom had been, and he's giving Bellamy a run for his money. Clarke grabs her kit and gets to work stopping the bleeding. He'll need stitches, so there's only so much she can do now, but she can make sure the blood is cleaned out of his eyes.

She sees movement in the crowd from the corner of her eye, and she turns to see Cage lean over and whisper into Dante's ear. True to his word, Dante wanted to be part of the crowd, so they are sitting ringside instead of on the second floor with the mayor.

Dante never turns his attention away from the ring, and he gives her a smile when he catches her staring. 

“Could you focus?” Bellamy asks with labored breathing. She doesn't have to be asked twice. The smile from Dante is unnerving, so she turns away and focuses on Bellamy again. “This guy is kicking my ass. I can't get on the inside of him.”

“Maybe you should use more jabs.” She feels like a jab expert now after all of her practicing.

“Leave the managing to me, Clarke,” her dad says from outside of the ring. “Quit toying with this man. He's 15 years older than you. Time to knock his ass out.”

The bell sounds, and Clarke exits the ring. The gash on Bellamy's brow still bleeds, but it's at a much slower rate now, and his vision is clear for the time being. 

The two boxers dance around each other in the center of the ring to gain a few more seconds of rest. Casper closes in and sends out a jab to get a feel for the distance remaining. Bellamy is able to dodge the punch and is finally able to get on the inside of his opponent. He swings and connects with a hook, and that's all the opening he needs to go into a frenzy.

Clarke looks into the crowd again, but isn't able to find Dante or Cage. She is able to see Finn and Raven sitting a few rows back from the empty chairs the two men had just been occupying. Finn waves, and just like at the coffee stand, she ignores him and turns back to the ring just as Bellamy lands an uppercut.

Casper falls to the mat and the referee jumps in front of Bellamy to begin his count. The crowd noise grows the closer he gets to ten and erupts once he reaches it. Bellamy backs away with his hands raised over his head in victory. 

Jake enters the ring and pulls Bellamy in for a celebratory hug, not worrying about the blood that is soaking into his own shirt. Clarke doesn't jump into the ring right away, though. She pulls out her phone for the hundredth time and checks for any calls or messages. She breathes a sigh of relief when she sees she has a text from Lexa.

'home' is all it says, but it's enough to stop Clarke from worrying. She stuffs the phone back into her back pocket and joins her dad and friend in the ring to celebrate with them.

Several minutes and interviews later, Clarke joins Bellamy in the dressing room and brings out her stitching kit. This will be much easier than Lexa's wound to the side considering there's no weapon to remove, but it's still good experience.

“This will hurt,” she warns as she pierces his skin with the needle and pulls the thread through.

“You know that Cage Wallace guy? The owner of his place? He told me to give the fans a show. What do you think that was about?” Clarke shrugs her shoulders but then gives Bellamy an apologetic look as he grimaces in pain from her movement. “Then he asked me about Red Room. Do you know why it's called that?”

“I just thought it had something to do with corners. You know, like red corner and blue corner.”

“Yeah, maybe. Why would he bring it up if that was it, though?”

“You'd have to ask my dad about that.” Clarke doesn't have an answer for him. Even with her increased involvement with the gym, her information on it is still scarce. 

“That's what Cage said. It's probably not important.” He lets Clarke continue her work before continuing, “Do you want to go to Molly's after this? You can buy me a beer to celebrate.”

Clarke feels bad, but that's actually the last thing she wants to do after this. She needs to get to Anya's. “I'd love to, but I can't tonight. Maybe tomorrow?” 

She tries to let him down easy, but there is still disappointment in his eyes.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Anya picks up another package of cocaine and bags it for evidence. It's the sixth one she has recovered from around the garage. Other officers inspect the rest of the garage, and so far they've bagged around 500 grams of the powder. Lexa did a good job, but another dead body worries her.

“What are you doing in here?” her senior officer asks her as he comes into the garage after being delayed at another location.

“Dispatch said numbers were needed here, and I wasn't responding to anything else.”

“I'll take care of this evidence. I need bodies out front to control the media. Someone tipped them off to the crime scene.” He takes the evidence bag from Anya and sends her on her way.

Lights from the vans and news crews light up the night outside the building. Other networks join WCVB to cover the story, and Anya can already see the headlines. 'Major Drug Bust Night of Crime Lord's Release'. It makes her smile, and she hopes the focus will be shifted off of Lexa and onto the ones that deserve it.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Switching the channel to WCVB, Lexa sees a reporter shove a mic into Anya's face. “We currently have no comment about the scene here tonight. Please remain behind the tape and wait for an official statement.”

Lexa unfastens her vest and lays it next to her sweatshirt and gloves. She looks over her arms and sees there isn't a scratch on her despite being shot at several times.

A knock at the door pulls her attention away from inspecting her body for injuries. She looks through the peephole and sees that it's Clarke standing on the other side. Clarke rushes in after the door opens and tugs at Lexa's shirt to bring her in for a kiss. She can hardly control herself as she cups Lexa's face and bites down on her bottom lip. 

Lexa pulls away, and Clarke thinks she might have made a mistake by kissing her, but the thought fades as Lexa gives her another quick kiss after closing the door.

Happy that their quasi relationship appears to be progressing even further, but still upset about the text from earlier, Clarke pushes against Lexa's shoulder to show her annoyance. “You couldn't send something more than 'home'?”

“I didn't want to say too much. It might bite us in the ass later if I did,” Lexa explains as they walk into the living room to the couch. Lexa sinks down into it and takes Clarke's hand as she sits down next to her. “Things went more smoothly than I thought they would. No injuries this time either, so that's a plus.”

“They said on the radio that one of the men there was pronounced dead at the scene.” Clarke leans into Lexa's side. The closeness is nice after spending most of the night worrying about the woman. 

“One of his own guys shot him.” She fails to mention she was using him as a shield when it happened. Clarke handled O'Brien well, but Lexa isn't sure she'll feel the same if the bodies keep piling up. 

“Bellamy won his fight.” Clarke lets it go, but Lexa doesn't care about Bellamy or the fight. All she cares about is who was in attendance, and it's like Clarke can sense that because she quickly continues. “Dante and Cage were there for most of the fight. Delano was lurking around somewhere, but I didn't see him much. The mayor was there, but he didn't sit with Dante which kind of surprised me. Oh, and I think I recognized one of the other guys on Anya's board. I think it was Emerson. I'd have to look at it again to be sure. There were others I didn't recognize, but I think they were probably important.”

Lexa nods and leans into the couch. The adrenaline from the fight is completely gone now, and she's exhausted. Clarke rests her head on Lexa's shoulder and curls up into her side.

“Finn and Raven were there too.”

“I'm not worried about them, and you shouldn't be either.” Raven and Finn are touchy subjects for Clarke. Lexa knows that and seeing them at Bellamy's fight must have bothered her, but neither one are on her radar. She rubs her thumb across Clarke's to offer her some comfort nonetheless. 

“The raid is all over the news, and no one is talking about you being the bad guy. You did good.” Clarke leans up and places a soft kiss on Lexa's cheek, and Lexa can't help but to smile. Things are starting to look up.


	9. A Cause to Believe In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little late, but I'm currently in a different time zone!

Clarke's thighs clamp around Lexa's head, and her body shakes with pleasure. Lexa peers up at her from between her legs and waits for her to ride out her orgasm. Clarke's legs finally fall to the side, releasing Lexa's head. 

Lexa places a soft kiss on the inside of Clarke's thigh and continues trailing them up her stomach, over her chest, and along her jaw until she's face to face with her again. Clarke puts her arms around Lexa's neck and pulls her in for a lazy kiss. It's all she can muster right now, but Lexa doesn't mind. These are her favorite kind of kisses, the completely satisfied kind.

“Are you sure you don't have superpowers?” Clarke asks after pulling away.

Lexa re-situates herself so that her weight is resting on her forearms on either side of Clarke's head. “Pretty sure.”

Clarke grins and turns slightly to kiss Lexa's wrist. She turns back and runs her fingertips along the other woman's shoulder blades down to her lower back. She grips her hips and moans when Lexa pushes them into her. “That thing you do with your tongue should really be considered one.” The banter doesn't last long, though, as the far away look in her eyes tells Clarke that the comment didn't register. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Lexa falls to the side of Clarke and stares up at the ceiling. “I never planned on people dying. Maybe I was naive to think I could accomplish anything without it.”

Clarke props herself up on her elbow and takes Lexa's hand in her own. She's not sure how much things like this help her, but she never pulls away, so it must offer some sort of comfort. “I don't think you were being naive. O'Brien was trying to kill you, and this other guy was shot. Even the most optimistic people run into bad luck.”

Lexa leans over the bed and snatches her bra and shirt from the floor. Her phone lays a foot away, and she has to stretch to reach it. “I should have stayed at Anya's last night and waited for her,” she says as she reads over the texts from her friend. “I have to go. I need to sign a few more papers for the house before training, and I have the early shift at Molly's today.”

These moments never seem to last long, but Clarke never expects them to. They both have too much going on to lay in bed all day. She gets out of bed and pads across the room to pull her robe off the hook on the back of her door. The plush cotton is inviting and a reminder of her lack of sleep. All she wants to do is wrap herself in it and sleep for a day, but if she doesn't have time to do that with Lexa, she certainly doesn't have time to do that by herself. 

“When do you move in?” Clarke asks as she runs her fingers through her hair, trying to work out the tangles as best she can. 

Lexa pulls her pants over her hips and sits back on the bed to put on her socks and boots. “Anya said it could take up to a month for the loan to go through. I'm tired of that couch and living out of boxes and suitcases.”

“That's the real reason you stayed the night, isn't it? So you could sleep in a bed.”

Lexa smirks and makes her way to the door Clarke leans on. “There wasn't much sleeping going on.”

Clarke returns the smirk and wraps her arms around Lexa's neck again to pull her in for another kiss. This one isn't lazy. It quickly deepens as Lexa runs her tongue over Clarke's bottom lip. She moans into Lexa's mouth as she feels her leg slip in between her own. The robe falls open as Lexa pushes harder into her, but Clarke grinding down into her leg snaps her out of the lust filled moment. She really doesn't have time for this.

She tears herself away, and Clarke looks at her in confusion, like she's done something wrong. The robe hanging loosely around her and her messy hair does nothing to slow Lexa's heart rate, but her resolve is strong as she ties Clarke's robe together to prevent any further distraction.

“I really have to go.”

“Yeah, yeah. Saving the world is a full time job.” Lexa laughs, but there's no feeling behind it. 

They both make their way to the front door, but before Lexa can open it to leave, there is a knock. Not sure what to do, Lexa takes a step back away from the door and lets Clarke open it. For a moment, Clarke is worried that it might be Jackson on the other side. It's an irrational thought. She has no idea what he would be doing here, but it worries her anyway. She's not sure how Lexa would react to him showing up at her front door again.

When she sees her mom on the other side of the door, though, she wishes for Jackson instead. She can handle that. This isn't something she wants to deal with right now. 

Abby stands in the hallway and looks over Clarke's shoulder at the woman standing behind her. The tank top, the black cargo pants, the tattoo. None of it pleases her.

“I should get going,” Lexa says, not liking the way Abby is looking at her. She squeezes past the mother and daughter, neither one of them willing to give up any ground, and gives Clarke an apologetic look from the hallway.

Abby turns and catches the look. “That would probably be best.”

Lexa doesn't like the way she looks at her, and she certainly doesn't like the way she speaks to her, but this is Clarke's mom. She bites her tongue and decides that's a line she's not going to cross. At least not today.

As Lexa backs away, Abby pushes her way into the apartment and closes the door behind her. “Is that your girlfriend?”

“I don't know what we are.”

“God, Clarke. I spoke with Jackson's father. He said the two of you went on a few dates. Why can't you make it work with someone like that?” Abby walks further into Clarke's apartment and sets her purse on the kitchen counter.

“As opposed to...” Clarke begins before her mother speaks up again.

“Finn, and that woman that just left.” She leans against the counter and studies Clarke. 

Suddenly, the robe doesn't feel like enough. She feels exposed standing in front of her mom like this, but that doesn't stop the anger from coming through. “You have no idea what kind of person Lexa is. If this is all you came to talk about, you can leave.”

“I found out about your volunteer work with your father. If you can even call it that. If you wanted to keep this a secret, you shouldn't have worked such a high profile event. Dean Williams knows, but her hands are tied.”

Clarke crosses her arms over her chest and shifts her weight from foot to foot in the hopes that her negative body language will wrap this up quicker. “What does that even mean? This is clinical experience. I don't see why it's such a big deal.”

“This isn't clinical experience. You have no patients, and a boxer could hardly be considered one of those, can they? You were doing everything right. Early graduation, shadowing me for actual clinical experience, and impressing the faculty in your first two years. Everything changed after you started seeing Finn.”

Clarke lets out a bitter laugh, unable to believe how wrong her mom is. “It couldn't have anything to do with the affair you had and the way you betrayed Dad, could it?” Abby sits there quietly, but Clarke doesn't expect anything but that from her. “Or maybe it's because I'm finally realizing this isn't something that I want. I thought helping out at the gym would help me get that spark back, but it hasn't. You know why? Because I'm done. I have been for awhile. I've just been too scared to admit it.”

Abby gathers her belongings and heads for the door. She stops beside Clarke on her way and takes in the sight of her. If Clarke wasn't feeling exposed before, she is now. “Don't do something you'll regret. A lot of sacrifices have been made to get you to this point in your life.”

“I've already spent years doing something I regret. Now I'm going to do something I want to do.” Clarke turns to the door and opens it, signaling the end of the conversation.

Abby walks out without another word, and Clarke slams the door behind her.  
~~~~~~~~~~

“I was able to see the rest of the house. The inside is in a lot better shape, but it'll need a few cosmetic repairs. I got the owners to come down on the price, so we can just budget for what we want to fix first.” 

Lexa nods like she's listening, but she misses most of what Anya says. She slides the signed papers across the table to her friend, and she puts them in a folder to take to the bank. 

“Now that we have that taken care of, look at this.” She unfolds the newspaper sitting in front of her and hands it to Lexa.

Lexa reads over the headline in bewilderment. “Drugs Linked to Charlestown Mob? Anya, Charlestown Mob hasn't been active since the 60s, and none of the busts have happened in their old territory. We offered up Dante on a silver platter, and no one bit.”

“They could have been paid not to, but what if Charlestown is starting up again? We can't afford to get caught up in a war.” She grabs the paper back from Lexa and reads over it again to make sure both of them read it right.

“It doesn't make any sense. Delano is connected to the Irish Mob, and he's running the drug operation.”

“No, he's running things in South Boston, and meth is the drug of choice here. You uncovered cocaine. Someone else is using Colony Moving as distribution. We already know meth isn't the only drug they're pushing in Boston, so it could still be the Irish Mob, but it wasn't hard for the press to steer the story in another direction. We know the connections. The public doesn't. Not outside of Dante and Cage, and they're both clean.”

Lexa sighs and leans back in her chair. “What else can I do? Everything always gets twisted.”

“This hit hurt them. If Charlestown is just a fabrication, they are scrambling for anything to feed to the media to keep Dante's name out of the headlines. If it isn't a fabrication, if these men are part of the resurrected group, then they might be setting up for a war. Bay Harbor was reported to look like a rival gang hit. Colony Moving, if Charlestown really is back, looks like the same. You might have just inserted yourself in the middle.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

After a quick shower to calm her nerves from her mom's visit, Clarke grabs her keys and phone and opens the door to a startled Raven about to knock. Clarke rolls her eyes and stands aside so her friend can come inside.

“First my mom and now you. What'd I do to deserve this?” she asks as she closes the door behind them.

“Good morning to you too. I just left Finn's and was in the area.”

“Okay, if we're gonna do this whole fresh start thing, you should probably keep things like that to yourself. I'm kind of in a hurry, but do you want coffee or something?”

Raven makes her way to the couch and looks at the black and white picture hanging on the wall. “No, I'm okay. Thanks, though. This is new. I like it.”

“Thanks.” Clarke isn't sure what else to say. There are a lot of new things in her life. A lot of new things Raven has missed out on, and that bothers her more than she wants to admit.

They awkwardly take a seat next to each other and stare off into the space in front of them. Just as Clarke is about to ask what Raven wants, the woman speaks up. “I need to know what kind of durable suit you want me to make. Three piece? Batman? Swimsuit?”

The awkwardness forgotten, Clarke quickly turns to Raven in excitement. “Can you actually make something like Batman's suit?”

Raven laughs, and the atmosphere around them is much more relaxed. It almost feels like before everything got so messed up. “If I could make a Batman suit, I would be rich by now and living in a New York City penthouse.”

“You already knew what kind of suit I was asking for. There was no need for you to come here and clarify.” Just like that, the relaxed mood is gone, but Raven doesn't let it get to her.

“I knew it. You're the vigilante. When did you become such a badass?”

“I've always been a badass, but I'm not the vigilante. I can text you the measurements, but this is the last time we talk until you come up with something.” Clarke stands and goes to open the door for her friend to leave. As Raven walks by, Clarke grabs her arm and pulls her closer. “I meant what I said about keeping quiet.”

Raven pulls her arm free. She might want a second chance, but not like this. “You don't have to threaten me, Clarke. I won't say anything.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

With the thought of Charlestown still heavy on her mind, Lexa decides a visit to Gustus is needed. She can't go to the prison to ask her dad these questions, and Gustus is the only other person she can think of that might have any information considering his relationship with her dad. It's a long shot, she knows, but it can't hurt to try.

When she pulls up in front of his garage, though, she sees Delano leaning up against a car across the street. He's clearly waiting for someone, and Lexa doesn't wait to find out who. She throws her car into park and jumps out. She doesn't bother checking the street for any oncoming traffic, but thankfully no cars are coming. 

She rushes into the shop and nearly runs into Echo as she leaves. There isn't a shred of recognition on Echo's face at seeing Lexa, so it makes her wonder if the fight was ever actually scheduled. Gustus looks on from the doorway of his office, alarmed to see Lexa. This little exchange is obviously something Gustus doesn't want Lexa to see. 

He stands to the side and extends his arm inside of his office to invite her in. The space resembles a closet more than anything else. There's just enough room for a desk and one chair, but neither one makes a move to sit in it, afraid that it might make them look weak.

Lexa takes a moment to gather her thoughts and calm herself down, but she's unable to keep quiet for long. “Imagine my surprise when I pull up and find two Irish Mob members at your shop after you kicked me out. Any idea how something like that would happen?”

“Lexa,” Gustus starts.

“No, tell me how something like that happens.”

Gustus finally sits down and looks up at his niece. “They use my garage as one of their chop shops. It's used as part of the trade agreement with Peru for cocaine.”

“So you're part of the reason drugs are flooding the streets.” She feels trapped inside this tiny office. There's no where for her to go, so she has no choice but to stand there and stare down at the man she's not sure she knows. 

“Yes. Way before Dante went to prison, during the time they were the strongest, you couldn't operate a business without them giving you permission. Permission was only given if you could offer them something in return. Your dad and I were young and dumb, and it's something we've both had to live with.”

“So my dad left you in charge? To watch after his kids? He did this knowing you were still involved with something he tried to end? How am I supposed to trust anything you say?” The small space feels like it's becoming smaller, and Lexa is having a hard time keeping her anger under control.

“By the time your dad did what he did, things were slowing down. Federal agents were snooping around in illegal gambling claims, and it didn't take long for trade to die down as a result of all the investigations.”

“Illegal gambling? Is that how you know Jake? What favor did he owe you?”

Gustus opens up one of the desk drawers and pulls out a picture of him standing with Jake and Dante. “This was the night Jake won his belt. He wasn't able to box much longer, but he was given the opportunity to take over the gym. I was able to convince Dante that it wasn't worth it to fix matches anymore, not with the feds breathing down everyone's neck, and that let Jake run the gym how he wanted. All I wanted was a favor. I collected when your dad went to prison.”

“You kicked me out to protect Tris, but she's in more danger without me around.”

Gustus stands again. He wants to be on equal footing in this argument, and he doesn't feel like he's getting through to Lexa with the way she's looking down at him. As soon as he's up, though, Lexa takes a step away from him. There's not much room left in the office, so it forces her up against the door.

“I kicked you out to protect everyone. If it ever got out that my niece is responsible for all of the attacks, we would all be dead. Your dad would be killed in prison. There's already been two unsuccessful hits taken out on him. They wouldn't fail a third time.”

“Listen to yourself, Gus. They would have killed us all whether I was at home or not. All of these years you've been lying to me. How am I ever supposed to forgive you for this? How am I supposed to trust you with my sister?” She begins to turn the doorknob to leave. In her mind, this conversation is over, and she wants to be as far away from this man as possible, but Gustus reaches out and clasps his hand around Lexa's to stop her.

“My involvement has been almost nonexistent for years. I want Tris away from this just as much as you do. I want you both away from it. That's why I want you to stop what you're doing and think about what it'll mean for your family if you're ever caught.”

Lexa puts the palm of her other hand into Gustus's chest and pushes him away so that she can open the door and get away from the situation. “End any involvement you have with them. I don't care how small it is. I don't care how you do it. If you don't, I'm coming back for Tris, and your name might be the next in the headlines.”

Gustus watches her go, unable to think of anything to get her to stay. Unable to think of anything that will get her to understand his side of things.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Her six chocolate donut holes wait for her as Clarke walks into the donut shop. She smiles at her dad and walks around the table to give him a kiss on the cheek before she takes her seat opposite of him. 

“Sorry I'm late. I had an unexpected visitor this morning,” she explains and pops a donut hole into her mouth.

“I know. I already talked to your mom. She wasn't happy.” He finishes off his plain cake and sips his coffee while he waits for Clarke to finish her first donut.

“Is that why you asked me to meet you for breakfast? My decision isn't up for debate.” She hurries through another donut hole because she has a feeling this breakfast is going to be cut short due to her impatience.

“Does this have anything to do with Lexa? Your mom told me she saw a woman with rose tattoos leaving your apartment.”

“I'm doing this for myself, not anyone else. Lexa has opened my eyes to things that actually matter, though.”

“Lexa is just a bartender. How is that eye opening? You'd be giving up a lot.” He notices Clarke rushing through her food. He knows this isn't what Clarke wants to be talking about, but he needs to make sure she isn't making a mistake.

“Or maybe I would be gaining a lot? I want to help people without the pretense that's what I'm doing just to make a lot of money. I'm not Mom.”

“That isn't fair to her. She's only ever wanted what was best for you.”

Clarke scoffs at that, but she tries not to bring up the affair or ask how that was the best for any of them. “I would be looking at debt, long hours, and probably alcoholism. Maybe even some cheating. I want more than that.” 

She doesn't try that hard, but Jake ignores it.

“Lexa helped you realize all of this?”

Clarke finishes off the last of her donut holes and wipes her mouth. “You don't know her like I do. She was able to work with me and teach me how to box. Mostly jabs right now, but still. She was able to work through any frustration that I'm not a natural and just teach me. Something you were never able to do.”

She opens up her bottle of orange juice with the plans of chugging it so she can leave.

“You really like Lexa, don't you?”

That gets Clarke to pause and set her drink down. Maybe her dad is finally willing to be open to the idea of the two of them. “Yes, I really like her, and I'm getting tired of always having to defend her.”

Jake nods and fiddles with his empty coffee cup. This is hard for him, but he can't deny that he was once in Lexa's position. The kid from the wrong side of the tracks wanting to be with someone whose parents hated him. He remembers what he had to go through just to be with Abby, and he doesn't want to follow in those footsteps.

“If this is something that will make you happy, you should go for it. Your mom will cut you off, but I can probably cover your rent while you get everything sorted out.”

“How are you able to afford that?” 

“Bellamy's fight.”

That reminds Clarke that she still needs to take him out to celebrate. Lexa is working the early shift at Molly's, and that seems like a good place to take him. She finally has her dad's approval, maybe Bellamy is next.  
~~~~~~~~~

Octavia scans the article on the front page of her newspaper as Lincoln walks into the kitchen to fix his breakfast. “Are you going in today?”

She looks up from the paper and shakes her head. “I called in.”

Lincoln pours himself a bowl of cereal and joins her at the table. “You called in last week too.”

“They can fire me if they have a problem with it.” She shows him the front page and gives him time to read over the headline. “What do you think? Is this the vigilante or opposing gangs taking hits out on each other?”

He takes the paper from her to look over it better. “Charlestown Mob hasn't been active in decades. This can't be right.”

“I bet the DA's office is looking into this. I would love to have the inside scoop, and not this stuff that gets pumped out by the media.”

“It couldn't hurt to go by there. A city position won't pay as much as a private firm, but you should go for it. You could be Light Justice the crime fighting paralegal. Do you need those documents filed? I know just the woman for you.”

Octavia laughs and leans over the table to give him a kiss. Even when she doesn't need pumping up, he always manages to do so.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Tristan breaks free from Lexa's chokehold with a two handed pluck and has a palm in her face before Lexa can register what is happening. He doesn't strike her, but the threat is there, and she kicks herself for not being focused.

“Show me,” Tristan demands as he wraps his hands around her neck. She grabs the inside of his wrists and pulls outward. His hands tear free from her neck, and she brings her knee up to connect with his groin. Like him, though, she doesn't strike.

“Sloppy. Do it again.” He puts his hands around her throat again, but this time he applies more pressure. She pulls at his arms with more strength which causes him to lose his balance. Instead of going for the groin, she grasps the back of Tristan's head and pulls it down to meet her knee. She stops his momentum before his face makes contact.

“Better.” She goes through the move half a dozen more times and wonders if the man that died the night before had any kind of training like this. 

“That's enough for today. Your elbows have improved quite a bit. Your chokeholds need a lot of work. We'll keep working on them next time.” Tristan begins unwrapping the tape from his hands, and Lexa follows suit.

She wads the tape up into a ball and tosses it from hand to hand while she watches Tristan take his time removing his. Everything he does is meticulous, even removing tape.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” She doesn't know where the question comes from, and it's out of her mouth before she even knows she's asking it.

He stops unwrapping his hands, and a long strip of tape dangles there, forgotten. “I'm retired army. I was paid to kill people.”

“How did you cope with it?” She continues to toss the tape ball between her hands. It somehow keeps her calm and her mind from wandering. When Tristan doesn't answer, though, Lexa is afraid she's crossed a line. “I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that.”

He waves her apology off. “When you believe in the cause, it's easier. When you don't, that's when it's the hardest.” He watches her concentrate on the ball of tape and continues unwrapping his. “Is that why you were so distracted today? Are you wondering what it was like for your dad killing those men?”

“No.” It's only partly a lie. She's not wondering about what her dad went through, but it is a good cover. “Well not really. I'm just having some family issues, and I guess you could include my dad in that.”

Tristan finishes removing his tape and plucks Lexa's out of the air before it can land in her other hand. “Leave it at the door from now on. I want your full attention during sessions. I didn't accept you into my gym for nothing.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

After a quick shower at the gym, Lexa's mind clears, and she's able to mostly focus on work at Molly's. The lunch rush isn't too bad, and she's able to think about what Tristan said earlier. Does she believe in the cause? She thinks so, but everything is starting to become more and more difficult and confusing. Is this all really worth it? Maybe Gustus is right, and she should just walk away. 

As she dries off clean glasses, she sees Clarke walk through the door. Lexa smiles, but it quickly fades when Bellamy walks in behind her. Her mind might be clear, and she might be in a better mood, but it's not a good enough mood to want to see him.

She goes back to drying the glasses and does her best to ignore them both. 

Clarke and Bellamy choose a table, and she notices Lexa avoiding her glances from across the room. Like Lexa, she tries to ignore it. She's here to celebrate with her friend, but it's definitely something they need to talk about later.

“How are you spending your money from the fight?” She tries to flag down a waitress, but the girl doesn't see her on her way to the bar. She watches Lexa say something to her, and as she comes back across the room, Clarke tries to flag her down again. This time, the waitress does see her, and she ignores them.

“I had steak and drinks last night.”

“By yourself?” She gives up on trying to order anything right now, and Bellamy doesn't seem too worried about it.

“Jake went with me.”

Of course her dad went with him, but she can't help but to wonder why no one else from the gym tagged along.

“Why don't you get along with anyone at Red Room?”

“None of them take it as seriously as I do. It's just a hobby for them. This is how I make a living.” He puts his finger up for service, but he gets ignored too. He looks at Clarke in confusion, but she just shrugs her shoulders.

She points over the bar to where Lexa stands mixing a drink. “She doesn't take it seriously?”

“She quit, didn't she?” He doesn't bother looking over his shoulder to the bar.

“Yeah, but because she thought she wasn't being given enough respect. She joined another gym.”

“I don't care. The going got tough for her, and she bailed. That's typical behavior from her.”

That doesn't sound like the Lexa Clarke knows. Their relationship isn't angst filled, but it isn't exactly easy, and Lexa continues to stick it out. Her time as Dark Justice certainly can't be described as easy either. 

“Don't you think you might be a little too harsh on the people in your life? Maybe it's causing you to look at things differently.”

Bellamy tries to get the attention of the other waitress, but that one ignores him too. “Murphy is a scumbag. He would hit on his own sister if he had one. Finn is a coward and a cheat. Lexa is untrustworthy. Why would I take the time getting to know the others when they're probably the same?”

Clarke catches Lexa watching them, but instead of feeling annoyed at the lack of service they've received, she feels like she's been caught doing something she shouldn't be. She diverts her gaze as quickly as she can and hopes that Lexa doesn't notice. 

She ignores the part about Lexa, not wanting to get into it again, and focuses on the bit about Finn. “What makes him a coward and a cheat?” Her mind screams 'Raven', but she wants to hear what Bellamy has to say.

“He threw his last fight to make more money. He was able to move out of South Boston and got his mom a nice apartment too. He pretty much sold his soul to do it, though.”

“How do you know he threw it?”

“The payout wasn't big enough to cover the costs of him moving, not to mention his mom.”

Clarke tries one last time to get the attention of a waitress, but to no avail. “Who got him to throw it?”

Bellamy looks at her like he can't believe that's something she even needs to ask. “Isn't it obvious? The Irish Mob. That's why I was so hesitant about fighting at High Point Lounge. I don't want to owe them anything.”

It's pretty much what Clarke expects, but Bellamy's insight is important to her. He's involved but more removed than Lexa is. It doesn't really surprise her about Finn, but it does make her worry about him and Raven. 

She catches Lexa watching them again and decides enough is enough. She gets up from the table and strides to the bar with purpose. 

“Why hasn't anyone taken our order yet?” she asks once she makes it to the counter. 

“I told them not to go over there. I was hoping you would leave.” 

That takes Clarke by surprise. She doesn't know where this hostility is coming from, but she isn't going to bow down to it. “Too bad. I'll take two mimosas.”

Lexa smiles, and it relieves Clarke because there is no bitterness behind it. “We don't serve mimosas.” 

“You don't have orange juice?”

This makes Lexa laugh as she looks around the bar. “What about this place made you think we have champagne?”

Clarke follows Lexa's gaze around the bar and sees the overweight biker in his leather vest. “Okay, fine. Can you make a Bloody Mary?”

“I'm a bartender, of course I can make a Bloody Mary.” Lexa brings out two highball glasses from under the counter and starts collecting the ingredients she needs to make the drinks. “Is this for his hangover? He looks like shit.”

Clarke looks over her shoulder at Bellamy and has to admit that Lexa is right. He has bruises under both eyes, and his split brow is swollen to twice the size of the other. “His fight last night was more difficult than his other one. Casper was able to land a lot more shots.”

That clearly makes Lexa happy, and the fact that it does bothers Clarke. “What is the deal with you two? You told me he didn't know you, but he seems to think he does.”

Bellamy joins them, almost as if he can hear them talking about him, as Lexa pours the tomato juice into the glasses. “I don't like Bloody Marys.”

Lexa grabs the lemon juice and adds it to the mix. “Fuck off. I'm almost done making it.”

“I'll drink both if it'll keep you two from arguing. You're like children.” Clarke grumbles.

Lexa adds a dash of Tabasco and salt and pepper to each drink before sliding them in front of Clarke. “Do you want a cider?” she asks Bellamy, already knowing the answer.

“You're the one that can fuck off. You know I don't like those either.”

“There's not a whole lot you do like, is there?”

“If there was, you'd just screw it.”

That gets Clarke to stop looking between the two of them during the bickering. She looks down at her drink, and there's not nearly enough gone for her to be drunk already. “Wait...what? I like you Bellamy. You're a decent guy, and you might even become a good friend, but I'm not interested in anything else with you.”

“He isn't talking about you. He's talking about his ex. Jesus, Bellamy, how long ago was that? I had no idea she was your girlfriend because you insist on keeping everything about yourself hidden, but when I did find out, I ended things. It's way past time for you to get over it. I'm done apologizing for it, but if you're worried it'll happen again, don't be. I have a girlfriend now.”

Clarke looks down at her drink again. It's still the same amount, but she's not sure if she's hearing everything right. Deciding, again, that she isn't drunk, Clarke smiles. This has to make them official. She tries to hide it because of the situation with the other two, but she's happy. “Can you two just agree that all of this is in the past and try to move on?” She turns to Bellamy and pats him on the hand. For whatever reason, it seems like the right thing to do. “If you want to keep spending time with me, you have to accept that Lexa will probably be involved too.” Then she turns to Lexa and takes her hand. This action feels a lot more natural to her. “And you're going to have to accept that Bellamy is my friend now.”

Neither one responds, but Bellamy does take the other Bloody Mary and goes back to their table. It's all he's willing to do to show he can move on.

“I knew he liked them,” Lexa says victoriously, but Clarke doesn't care about what kind of drinks Bellamy does or doesn't like.

She leans over the bar and kisses Lexa. Lexa responds but quickly remembers where she is and pulls away. “You trying to get me fired?”

“I thought you had to break a guy's jaw for that?” Clarke grins, still leaning over the bar.

“Bellamy is right over there.”

Clarke laughs and leans in for another kiss. She hears the biker in the leather vest whistle behind them, and not even that bothers her.

“Do you want to train later?” Lexa asks when they pull away again. She cuts her gaze over to the man and stares him down until Clarke puts her hand under her chin to turn Lexa's attention back towards her.

“Yes.” 

“Meet me at my old place. We'll use the roof again.”

Clarke sits back down on her stool and gives a quick look over her shoulder to make sure Bellamy is still there. “Why are we going there?”

“I have something I need to take care of. It's not something you need to worry about.” 

Clarke is caught off guard by Lexa snapping at her. It changes the mood completely, and she doesn't understand what caused it. She grabs her drink and begins to walk away, not wanting to start a fight.

Before she can get too far, though, Lexa calls after her. “Wait. I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind today.”

Clarke studies her and see that she's struggling with something and does look apologetic. It's still something that needs to be discussed, but she decides it's not worth it to be angry with her right now. 

“Don't worry about it, okay?” She tries to give her the best smile she can to show her she's not upset, and from the way Lexa relaxes, it looks like it works.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Dante shields his eyes from the sun and the wind swirling dirt around the empty lot. “What is this place?”

Cage watches a black Lexus pull up and turns to answer his father. “You wanted an exit plan. This is it.”

Mayor Jaha gets out of the car and walks through the open gate of the chainlink fence. “What is the meaning of this? Do you know how hard it was to get the press to run with the Charlestown Mob angle?”

“We can't afford any unwanted attention right now. Especially you or my dad. The Irish Mob isn't as prominent as it once was, but we can't have anyone asking questions, even unfounded ones.”

“I just need to know the two of you have nothing to do with the drugs. I'm willing to divert attention and keep the DA off your back until you're able to get back into the good graces of Bostonians, but I need to know you aren't involved.”

Cage straightens his tie before placing his arm around his dad's shoulders. “We're not involved in the drugs. Not yet, anyway. Boston does have a drug problem. This is true. You're looking at the start of fixing that problem.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

A stack of police reports from the night before litter Indra's desk. None of the men have priors. She doesn't believe what the news reports, but the fact that all of the men have clean records worries her. They have no ties to the Irish Mob from what she can gather, not even through family. This could mean another group is in play, but if the media is reporting that is the case, the likelihood of it being true is slim.

She tries to work it out in her head. Is all of this the result of a lone wolf or are there really rival groups? Either way, the amount of drugs mounting up and the growing body count concern her. Two dead men might not be much compared to the homicide totals in Boston, but if this is the start of something bigger, the count needs to stay at two.

Commotion from outside her office pulls her attention away from the report in her hand, but before she can react, Octavia storms through the door. 

One of Indra's assistants catches up with an apologetic look on her face. “I tried to keep her out, but she pushed by me.”

“Please don't call the cops. I'm the one that ran into you at the courthouse. I've never done anything like this before.”

Indra is good at reading people, it's one of the reasons she's in the position she is, and decides to give Octavia a chance to explain herself. “Give us a minute, Becky.” Her assistant hesitates at the door, but it gives Octavia a chance to catch her breath and calm herself down. “Have a seat. I'm not sure I ever learned your name.”

“Octavia, and thank you so much Ms. Palmer.” She responds as she takes the seat offered to her.

The assistant finally leaves the office and closes the door behind her. “Call me Indra, and I've never done anything like this either. I could have you arrested for trespassing. A person with my position has to worry about threats against them.”

“No, no, no. That's not what I'm doing. I think I can help you. I'm a paralegal for the firm that represents Dante Wallace. The information I have might help.”

“Does that sound legal to you?” Indra leans back in her chair and folds her hands across her lap.

“Just consider it discovery,” Octavia offers, but there's not much confidence behind it.

“You had to have signed some sort of confidentiality agreement. If I were to ever bring charges up against Dante, you could never be on my staff. It would get the case thrown out.” Octavia slumps her shoulders not believing she didn't think of that in her excitement to get to the office. Indra continues to study the young woman. “I was a lot like you when I was younger. I worked for a private firm, but I didn't believe in the types of clients we represented. I started working for the city and joined all of the task forces I could. That's when I started to feel like I was making a difference. If that's something you want to do, you need to go back to school and get your law degree. There's only so much you can accomplish as a paralegal. Until my investigation into Wallace is over, we can't be seen together again.”

Octavia starts to stand. The outcome isn't what she hoped for, but there's no denying it could have been much worse. 

Indra writes something on a sticky note and hands it to Octavia before she's able to leave. “That's my personal number. I never give that out, but I like you, Octavia. Use it with discretion.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

Clarke pulls into the parking spot next to Lexa's car and sees her sitting on the hood with her gym bag resting by her feet. She leads them up to the roof, and hands Clarke a pair of gloves.

“Do you want to work on the cross?” 

“Yes,” she answers excitedly. She's more than ready to work on the cross. 

Lexa only demonstrates a couple of times before putting on her pads to protect her hands. She wants to see Clarke execute a right cross to find out how much work is needed.

Clarke delivers, but there's almost no power behind it. “Get back into the boxing stance.” Clarke does as she's told, and Lexa moves behind her. She puts her hands on either side of Clarke's hips and turns them. It's a little difficult with the pads still on, but she's able to get the movement she wants from Clarke. “You turned your back foot. Push from that foot, and the movement needs to come from your hips. Think of it like a clock. You start in this position,” she brings Clarke's hips back to the original stance, “and you end up in this position.” She pivots them back around to the ending position.

“Okay, I think I have it.” 

Lexa goes back to the front of Clarke and holds out her pads. Clarke strikes again with much more power. “You lowered your guard again, but that was a lot better.”

“God, you would think I would have the guard down after the thousands of times I've worked on the jab.” 

Clarke is frustrated, and that's not something Lexa wants. “Stop getting frustrated. It took me forever to have enough confidence that I could knock someone out with my right cross. Just focus on the main points. Push off with your back foot, pivot your hips, keep your guard up, and rotate your hand before you strike.”

They practice some more, and with each punch, Clarke gains a bit more confidence, but there's still a lot of work she needs to do. She's just happy she's finally moved on to something else.

After several more shots, they take a break, and Lexa drops her pads back into the bag and helps Clarke take off her gloves before dropping them into the bag too. She grabs two water bottles and hands one to Clarke. 

She sips on the water and rubs her sore shoulder while trying to think of a good way to approach something that has been bothering since she learned about it after her lunch with Bellamy. “The man from last night died from asphyxiation, not a gunshot wound. What aren't you telling me?”

“You don't need to know everything, Clarke. I'm too far into this now to keep doing things halfway.”

“So killing people is the answer?”

Lexa puts the cap back onto her water bottle and throws it into the bag. “It's either them or me. Or my fucking family. I won't apologize for doing what needs to be done.”

“What do you mean family?”

“Delano and Echo went by my uncle's garage. He told me I was part of your dad's roster because he helped Jake go legit.”

Clarke doesn't know what to say. She doesn't know if there's anything she can say to make the situation better. Everything is falling apart around them.

She doesn't get the chance to say anything, though, as tenants start to stream out onto the roof. Tris blindsides Lexa with a hug that nearly topples her. Lexa returns the hug when she regains her balance and glares at Gustus as he makes his way out onto the roof too. He holds a package in his hands, and Lexa knows exactly what it is.

She pulls away from the hug and focuses on her sister. “Do you remember Clarke?”

“Duh,” she responds and looks down at the gym bag full of boxing equipment. “You never taught me how to fight.”

“I just bought you a keyboard and lessons to learn how to play it. Be thankful for that.”

Tris grabs her sister's hand in excitement. “Oh, I am. Uncle Gus finally stopped complaining about my playing, so I think I might be getting better.”

The mention of her uncle starts to sour Lexa's mood, but the arrival of Penn stops that. “Holy shit, you're back.”

“Watch your mouth,” Lexa says as she punches him in the arm and jerks her head in the direction of her sister.

Clarke stands to the side and watches the exchanges. She's happy that Lexa has this to distract her from what's going on. 

“Let me get you two a beer.”

“We're about to leave. I have things I need to take care of tonight.” Penn and Tris grin at each other, and Clarke can feel the blush creeping across her cheeks. Lexa pushes Penn away and grabs her sister for another hug. “We'll have a movie night soon, I promise.”

“Maybe Clarke can come next time.”

Lexa looks over Tris's shoulder and makes eye contact with Clarke. “Yeah, maybe. Go have some fun.”

She pulls away from the hug again, and Tris runs off to join her friends. Lexa gathers up the bag and zips it closed. As they make their way across the roof to the door, Lexa stops and turns to the grill her uncle is cooking at. “Wait for me by the door.”

The smell of the steaks greets Lexa before she makes it to the grill. “They look good. Were they some sort of welcome back gift?” she asks once she stands next to Gustus.

“What'd you think you'd accomplish by coming here?” He pokes at the steaks on the grill and waits for a response.

“I wanted you to know that I was serious. I'll be moving in about a month. You have until then to figure out a way out of your situation, or I'm taking Tris.”

Clarke watches this exchange too, but unlike the other one with her friend and sister, this one isn't a happy one. She doesn't say a word when Lexa joins her again or as they go down the stairs, but when they reach the cars, Clarke isn't able to stay silent any longer. 

“Do you want to come over?” she asks in the hopes that getting her away from this place will put her in a better mood so they can talk.

“No. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?” Lexa starts to open her car door, but Clarke stops her before she can climb inside.

“What do you need to take care of tonight?”

“You don't need to know everything.” Lexa says again with the hopes Clarke will leave it alone.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Lexa finishes braiding her hair and stuffs it down the back of her sweatshirt. She pulls up the hood, and lifts the ski mask up over her mouth and nose before she grabs the duffle bag sitting in the passenger seat.

When she gets to Bay Harbor Butchery, she brings out the keycard she stole from the dead man and holds it over the keypad at the back door. The light switches to green, and she hears the lock click. So much for rival gangs, but she's thankful they haven't had enough time to change the system after last night. Or they don't know she stole a card. 

Delano turns at the sound of the door opening, but the look on his face tells Lexa he isn't expecting company. He rushes at her, but Lexa is ready for him. She uses his momentum against him and knocks him out with a headbutt. She staggers backwards and grabs her head in pain. She's pretty sure she didn't deliver the move correctly, but it does the job.

She drags him to the freezer door she sees across the room and ties his hands together once she's able to get him inside. It takes all of her strength to lift him up and put the rope over one of the hooks hanging in the room. He slumps down, but she knows when he regains consciousness, he'll be able to stand. She grabs more rope from her bag and ties his legs together to limit his mobility. 

She pulls a pair of scissors from the bag and cuts down the center of his shirt. The two halves fall apart, exposing most of his torso. She drops the scissors back into the bag and pulls on his hair to give herself a better angle to slap him awake. There isn't much sting because of the gloves, but he finally comes to after a few strikes.

He tries lifting his hands over the rope, but Lexa extends her palm out to his face and connects with power. It doesn't knock him out again, but his daze forces him to stop trying to get free.

Lexa rummages in her bag again and brings out a gas blowtorch. She turns the knob and pulls the trigger on the lighter. They both watch as the blue flame shoots out from the canister. Delano tries to back away this time, but Lexa grabs him by the hair again and holds the flame inches from his face. 

She can feel the heat from the flame, so she knows he can. She brings it closer to him, but before it can do any real damage, she pulls it away and steps back from him. She turns the knob to turn the torch off and drops it back into the bag.

This time, she brings out a switch blade and clicks it open. She drags it across his chest, and it slices through his flesh. He doesn't scream or yell out in pain, though. That doesn't matter to Lexa. She doesn't care if he wants to hold onto his dignity. She slices through the other side of his chest and steps back to watch the blood trickle down to his stomach. This isn't enough. She needs more. 

She steps back up to him and holds the knife in front of his face. Once again, he tries to back away, but this time he tries to kick out at her too. She dodges the kick and grabs him by the hair again but with much more force.

“You terrorize my city. I terrorize you.” She doesn't bother trying to disguise her voice. She cuts through his cheek and a stream of blood runs down to his neck. The face always bleeds so easily. She pulls off his eyepatch and looks at his wound. His eyelids remain shut, but the injury is mostly healed. “It would be a shame if you lost the other eye.”

It's just a threat. She has no interest in that. Instead, she moves the knife away from his face and presses it into his side. She starts to push it into him slowly, and that's when he starts to lose what little control he has over the situation.

He grits his teeth together, and his breath quickens. He finally lets out a yell when Lexa pushes the knife in further. She stops before she goes too deep and yanks the knife free. That earns her an even louder yell. She can hear the pain he's in, and it only spurs her on. She uses his ripped shirt to clean off the blade before closing it and tossing it back into the bag. 

She picks up the torch again and turns it on. “You nearly killed me by stabbing me like that.” She holds the flame over the laceration, and he lets out a scream unlike anything either one of them has ever heard. “Now we're even.”  
~~~~~~~~~~

Lexa sees Clarke's car when she pulls into a parking spot at Anya's apartment. She shakes her head and grabs the duffle bag. 

Once inside the apartment, she drops the bag to the floor and doesn't say anything to either Clarke or Anya sitting at the dining room table. She goes to the bathroom but doesn't bother closing the door behind her. She knows Clarke isn't far behind.

She's right, and Clarke comes inside the bathroom, and she takes care of closing the door to give them privacy. Lexa leans back against the counter and waits for Clarke to light into her.

It never comes. Clarke does see the lump on Lexa's temple, though, and any thought of fighting with her is gone. “How did this happen?” she asks as she runs her fingers over it softly. 

Despite the softness, Lexa still flinches. “I told you there are some things you don't need to know.”

“No. You don't get to do this. You don't get to call me your girlfriend and then try to push me away all in the same day. Even if it was just a slip and you didn't mean it, we were partners before anything else. Another dead man doesn't change how I feel about any of this.”

“I tortured someone tonight. What about now?”

Instead of backing away like Lexa expects her to, Clarke comes closer and pulls out the hair tie holding Lexa's braid together. She works her fingers through the strands of hair to loosen it. “Was it Delano?”

Lexa nods, and the movement sends waves of pain through her head, but Clarke's fingers running through her hair helps distract her.

After undoing the braid, Clarke helps Lexa lift the sweatshirt over her head. It's a tight fit over the vest and more confirmation that she needs to hurry and get the measurements to Raven. 

Clarke leans forward and kisses Lexa once she has her gear off. It's a short kiss, not meant for anything other than to tell Lexa nothing has changed between them.

“Get cleaned up and come back out there so we can go over everything we know.”

Clarke leaves the bathroom and rejoins Anya at the table. They both look at the bag by the door, but neither one of them are brave enough to look inside. 

“Is she okay?” Anya asks after pulling her gaze away from the bag.

“She will be.”

“And that?” she points at the bag.

“We shouldn't talk about it.”

“Bullshit. I need to know if my friend is out there killing people.”

“She isn't. Everyone just needs to calm down so we can focus on what we do know. Getting angry over things isn't helping anyone.”

Lexa's shower doesn't take long, and after a few minutes she's standing in the dining room in a pair of boxers and an oversized shirt. Her wet hair hangs loosely around her shoulders, and Clarke can't help but think how young and innocent she looks like this. 

Deciding Clarke is right, Anya skips over the bag and what Lexa was doing with it. “None of the men at Colony Moving have ties to organized crime. They don't even have speeding tickets to their names. There was no meth found there either, and we know Delano uses them as a distribution center. Maybe we were wrong about the coke. Maybe these guys were double dipping and there is more than one group.”

“There isn't,” Lexa responds simply.

“How do you know that?” Anya doesn't trust the press, but she's not willing to completely rule out the idea of Charlestown either.

“Because Gustus is involved in chopping cars to use in the coke trade, and I stole the keycard off the guy I killed. It works at Bay Harbor Butchery.”

That answers Anya's unasked question about her friend's activities, and she stores away the Gustus information for a different time.

“Maybe they want to appear weak when they're really strengthening past connections. They've already paid my dad and Gustus a visit. Bellamy said Finn threw a fight for them and is basically owned by them now.” Clarke explains. The web of involvement from everyone definitely grows more complex and confusing by the day.

“Their leader is out of prison. They are stronger than ever, and I know they can't exactly promote their illegal activity, but why insinuate a gang war and present themselves as weak by doing so?” Anya asks. 

“They're planning something bigger and want to deflect negative attention,” Lexa answers. She's more sure of this than she is of anything else. Whatever it is, there's no backing out now.


End file.
